The 'Cest Kids
by Flagg1991
Summary: All of Lincoln Loud's children have something wrong with them. Cover by Raganoxer. REUPLOAD.
1. Meet The 'Cest Kids

Lincoln pulled into the driveway at half past six, cut the engine, and sat slumped behind the wheel for nearly ten minutes, his tired, bloodshot eyes fixed on the facade of the Franklin Avenue house. His stomach bubbled with dread, and with a weary sigh, he reached into the glovebox for the container of Tums he kept there for homecomings such as this.

It was empty. Flashing, he threw the bottle against the windshield and leaned back against the headrest. Lovely, perfect way to start his evening.

Grumbling, he got out and went inside; he was barely through the door when the smell of warm shit wafted over him like a cresting wave. His nose pinched and he staggered back a little. Yeah, welcome home, Dad.

Waving his hand in front of his face, he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. Loan was lying on her stomach in front of the TV and coloring a picture. Beneath her gray sweatpants, her adult diaper bulged, which told Lincoln she hadn't been changed in a few hours...or days. He didn't know and he really didn't care anymore. Lemy sat on the couch, his long hair dirty and matted: He was flicking a lighter and grinning with absent-minded delight. Next to him, Lupa watched _Dr. Phil _with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, her crutches leaning against the end table within easy reach: Her legs were severely deformed, and without them she would be forced to drag her twisted body across the floor like a worm. She looked over, saw him, and nodded. Lincoln nodded back, then crossed to the couch and snatched the lighter out of his son's hand. Lemy turned with a breathless _duh_, his eyes crossing and his mouth working furiously.

"No lighters, you little pyro," Lincoln hissed. He looked at Lupa, but she turned away. Lincoln knew she smoked and didn't really care, but he expressly forbid her to let her half-brother get ahold of her lighters and matches: The kid had a serious thing for fire, and one day he'd burn the place down. "Be more careful," he said to Lupa, who grunted. Lemy reached for the firemaker, but Lincoln slapped his hand away.

Slipping it into his pocket and shaking his head, he went into the kitchen where Lori was standing at the stove and stirring a pot. Luan sat at the kitchen table with hers and Lincoln's daughter Liby in her lap. Liby was fourteen but had the mental capacity of a five-year-old. Currently, Luan was reading her a Dr. Seuss book. None of them looked up as Lincoln went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and opened it. "Loan shit herself," he said and took a sip.

"Change her," Lori said sharply.

Lincoln sighed. "You know, I just got home from work. Where's Luna or Leni?"

"Luna's at the doctor with Lyra, Lana and Lola took Lizy and Leia to the park, Lucy…" Lori trailed off. "Everyone's busy, Lincoln. You do it."

Lincoln took another drink of beer and sat the can down on the counter. Firmly. Some of the contents splashed out onto his hand. "Fine," he said tightly.

In the living room, he stood over his eldest daughter with his hands on his hips and tried _really _hard to remember the joy he felt the day Lori gave birth to her...the joy he felt despite knowing full well that she was going to be mentally retarded. He loved her, like he loved all his kids, but sometimes it was so overwhelming: There were ten of them, after all, and each had their own infirmity. The medical bills were through the roof and oftentimes it was like caring for nearly a dozen overgrown babies at once. That's enough to make anyone a little batty.

"Honey," he said patiently.

Loan bobbed her head back and forth, a hum on her lips. Sounded like _The Wheels on the Bus_.

"Honey."

She looked up at him, smiled, and grunted happily.

"We need to change your diaper."

She pouted and whipped her head away, her tangled blonde bangs lashing her sallow forehead.

"Don't fucking touch me," Lupa spat. Lincoln twisted to look over his shoulder: Lemy was rubbing her arm very slowly and grinning madly, a ribbon of drool coursing down his chin.

"Luuuuuuppppppaaaaa," he said, and tittered madly.

The girl flashed, grabbed his hand, and twisted: He yelped and drew away.

"Lupa, don't do that," Lincoln admonished.

Lemy held his wounded hand and studied it with big, watery eyes, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. "Haaaaaaaand."

"Don't touch your sister, you know she doesn't like it."

Lemy looked at him...then burst out crying. He jumped up and ran toward the stairs, the top half of his body leaning forward and his legs pumping furiously. He hit the treads and slammed up to his room. Lincoln started to further chastise his daughter, but he caught a whiff of Loan's diaper and gagged instead. Where the hell were the diapers and shit? He turned just as the front door slammed open and Lacy bounded in, her pale brown hair pulled back in a ponytail: Lincoln noticed the soccer ball just as she pulled back and kicked. It shot across the couch like a cannonball across the prow of a ship and slammed into Lupa's face. She went limp and toppled to one side. Lacy's eyes went wide, and when Lincoln glared at her, she shriveled in fear. Intellectually, she was 'normal.' Her only malformity being her cleft palate, a wide gash running from her upper lip to her left nostril like a trench.

"Really?" Lincoln demanded. "I've told you to stop kicking that goddamn ball in this goddamn house!"

"S-Sorry, Dad," she said and fell back a step. Lynn came through the door then, her arms laden with groceries. She saw Lincoln's face and rolled her eyes.

Instead of backing him up, though, she went into the kitchen like nothing.

Fucking bitch.

Lincoln went over to the couch, grabbed Lacy's ball, and held it up. "This is going bye bye."

"But, Dad!"

Ignoring her teary-eyed protest, he went off in search of the diapers. As he suspected, Loan had a diaper rash too.

Again.

Luna Loud sat next to her daughter in Dr. Lopez's office, her legs crossed and her arms folded her her ample chest. Lyra, a pretty girl with long brown hair and freckles, stared past the psychiatrist and out the window, her lips silently moving as she communed with the demons in her head.

Dr. Lopez, a slight Hispanic woman with Coke bottle glasses, watched the girl intently, her brow pinched in concern. She sighed and sat back in her swivel chair. "Obviously the prescription isn't work the way I had hoped. I'm going to switch her back."

Lyra was a schizophrenic. Her previous medication, Zazaraquil, kept most of the symptoms at bay: She didn't hear voices and she wasn't delusional. It made her very sleepy, though, and sick sometimes: There were days when she wouldn't move from her perch by the toilet, and other days where she couldn't get out of bed at all. Last week, Dr. Lopez switched her to a new drug, and over the past few days, Luna had noticed her daughter talking to herself more. Yesterday, she locked herself in her room and refused to come out because she thought Liena, Leni's daughter and her half sister, was going to hurt her. Poor Liena was so absent-headed she couldn't hurt a fly.

She also complained of being watched: The other day, Luna went into her room and found black trash bags covering all the windows and a towel shoved against the crack under the closet door.

It killed her to see her daughter this way.

Presently, she rubbed a comforting circle between the girl's shoulder blades. "Until then, I'm ordering her placed under care."

Luna's heart dropped.

She knew this was coming.

Until the medication took effect, Lyra would be admitted to the psych ward of Royal Woods General, most likely for forty-eight hours.

Luna nodded. She didn't like it, but it was for the best: Right now, her daughter was dangerous.

She rubbed deeper and more firmly. Lyra had no idea; she was in her own little world.

Leia Loud crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. Before her, her younger half sister Lizy balled her hands. "Please?"

"No," Leia said firmly.

They were at the park; around them kids ran, screamed, and chased each other in endless games of tag.

"But I need help," Lizy said. She wore a red baseball cap, her straight blonde hair framing her circular face. One of her eyes was milky white and blind, and her left handed was webbed. "I'll do anything."

Leia hummed. Anything, huh? "Welllll…" she drew, bobbing her head from side to side; her blonde pigtails swished.

Lizy nodded hopefully. "You name it."

Hmmm. "Do my chores. For a month."

The younger girl's face fell. "A whole month?"

A little black boy ran behind her and accidently bumped into her, driving her forward. Leia nodded. "Yep."

Lizy sighed and bowed her head. She _really _needed help finding enough worms for snack time, but she _really _didn't want to have to do her sister's chores for a whole thirty days. She glanced over at the bench where her mom and her Aunt Lola sat, the former with Lulu in her arms and the latter smiling and talking to a man who wasn't daddy.

Seeing no help there, she turned back to her older sister; Leia's eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, and her lips puckered up in a self-satisfied smirk. Lizy sighed and scuffed her shoe across the ground. "Fine," she grumbled.

"Alright," Leia said. She shoved Lizy roughly out of the way and started toward a grassy field. "Let's try there first."

Five minutes later, Lizy, sitting Indian style on the ground, looked up, and found that her sister had ditched her.

Lizy sighed deeply. Her sister was _always _doing stuff like this to her. Sometimes she would act all nice and offer to help, then, when Lizy needed her most, she was nowhere to be found. To be honest, Lizy was starting to think Leia did it on purpose...like she got some kind of thrill from being mean. Getting to her feet, she got up and went off in search of the older girl, first going back toward the bench, then toward the treeline well away from everyone else. The forest loomed ahead, and though she wasn't a scardy cat, it _was _kind of creepy. "L-Leia?" she called. She started past a tree, but something jumped over and grabbed her. She let loose a throat ripping scream, and her bladder released: Hot piss filled her shorts and dribbled down her legs.

"Got'cha," Leia said, and laughed viciously.

"_THAT WASN'T FUNNY!" _Lizy cried, a mixture of shame and anger coursing through her. Now there was a big wet patch on the front of her shorts and she looked like a little baby who wet herself.

Leia put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, a dark shadow crossing her face. "Yes it was."

Lizy was so angry she balled her fist and came forward, but the older girl easily side-stepped her and stuck out her foot. Lizy fell with a cry that turned to a breathless _umph! _When the tip of Leia's shoe connected with her side. Stars burst across her vision, and she peed herself even more.

"You're pathetic," Leia said, "and weak. Do us all a favor and get kidnapped."

Lizy started to cry, and Leia cackled mad laughter as she walked away.

* * *

"Daddy?"

Lincoln glanced up from his phone; Liena stood before him, her bare knees pressed together and her hands behind her back. She wore a seafoam green pair of overalls and thick gray socks that came to her knees. Like her mother, she was a ditz with a capital D; Lincoln couldn't tell if it was from the incest of if that's just how she was. "Yes?" he asked.

Liena flashed a sheepish smile. "Like...hi."

Lincoln blinked. "Hi." He bowed his head over his phone and went back to his Ace Savvy fan fiction: It's how he closed out the world. Well...that and beer. Could you blame him, though? He scrolled down and winced. Damn it. Now Ace and One Eye Jack were having gay sex. He wished he knew it was a fag fic before he started reading it.

Sighing in disgust, he threw his phone onto the end table and looked up at his daughter. She smiled again. "Do you need something, sweetie?" he asked.

"Well...can I sit on your lap?"

Lincoln's eyes narrowed. "No."

Liena's face dropped. "B-But Daddy…"

He shook his head no. "Not right now."

She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. "Please? I missed you today."

Sometimes Lincoln thought he was a heartless son of a bitch, but in reality he wasn't: He had a soft spot for his little girls, even if they _could _be annoying as all fuck. "Fine," he relented. Liena balled her fists in excitement and dropped onto his lap; she swung her legs over and wrapped her arms around his neck. She smelled, perhaps impossibly, like cotton candy, and Lincoln felt himself beginning to stir despite sex being the farthest thing from his mind right now. She wiggled her butt against his crotch and leaned in, her eyes wide and bright.

"I _really _missed you," she said, and pecked the tip of his nose, her blonde bangs tickling his forehead.

"I missed you too," he said.

She giggled and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her breathing was heavy now. "Not as much as I missed you." Her tongue darted out and traced his bottom lip: Lincoln's fingers dug instinctively into the soft flesh of her upper thigh. Heat was radiating from between her legs in sickening waves. She squirmed and giggled.

In addition to her ditziness, Liena was afflicted with an extremely high sex drive: She masturbated at least four times a day, and every afternoon when he got home from work she sought him out for a little daddy/daughter play time. Though he couldn't be absolutely sure, he thought she did things with Lemy too. How far she let him get was something that Lincoln didn't particularly want to know.

Presently, she molded her lips to his and kissed him deeply, her hands fluttering to the sides of his face. He lashed his tongue against hers, and for nearly a minute they grappled for position before she won out like she always did. She planted her knees on either side of him and ran her fingers through his hair, the soft scratch of her nails against his scalp sending electric tingles down his spine. He was rock hard now and ready to go.

Then Lori ruined everything by poking her head in from the kitchen. "Dinner."

Lincoln held up one finger. Gimme a minute, will you? I'm bonding with my daughter.

"Now," Lori growled dangerously.

Sighing, Lincoln pushed Liena out of his lap; she fell to the floor in a panting heap, her nose and cheeks cutely shaded red. "But Daddy…"

"After dinner," Lincoln said and got up.

Before he himself could sit down, he had to round up the others, namely Lemy, Lizy, and Leia. He found Lemy sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at a book cover: It featured lots and lots of flames, and Lemy smiled stupidly at it, his lips curling back from his yellow, plaque encrusted teeth in a leering idiot grin. Dirty clothes, toys, bits of trash, and dirty plates littered the floor, and Lincoln's nose pinched at the godawful smell. "Dinner," he said. Lemy looked up and licked his teeth.

"Dddddddddiiiiiinnnnneeeeerrrr?"

"Yes. The evening meal. Dinner."

"Lemy like dinner," Lemy said and got up: Lincoln noticed the erection pushing out the front of his son's dirty, acid washed jeans and looked away.

Next, he went to Lizy and Leia's room. Lizy was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed and her head bowed. Leia sat at her vanity and brushed her blonde hair while humming and bobbing her head back and forth.

"Dinner," Lincoln said.

"Okay, Daddy," Leia piped.

Lizy lifted a hand in acknowledgement, and Lincoln frowned. "You alright, Liz?"

Lizy nodded.

Eh, he tried.

In the dining room, Lincoln took his place at the head of the table, his family spread out on either side of him, Liby to his left and Lacy to his right. Liby brushed her reddish blonde hair behind one ear and straightened her yellow tie. Lacy peeled her number 2 jersey from her budding breasts and let it fall back into place. The fabric irritated her nipples, but she didn't like wearing bras, so...there you have it. Farther down, Lupa sat next to Liena; her nose was pink from where Lacy's ball drilled her, and her eyes were puffy. Lulu was at the foot of the table, Lisa on one side and Luna on the other. Lemy sat next to his mother, grinning like a loon. Shortly, Leia came in and sat between Liby and Luan while Lizy sat between Lynn and Lana. Ah, the gang's all here.

Except for Lyra. She was in the nuthouse again because that retard Dr. Lopez kept fucking with her medication.

And Loan. It was her nap time.

"Like, who wants to say grace?" Leni asked.

"Thank God for fiiiiiirrrrree," Remy said, and reached his fork toward a covered dish, but Lori slapped him away.

"Fine," she huffed, "I'll do it." She closed her eyes and bowed her head, as did everyone else, except for Lincoln. "God is great, good is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen."

A-fucking-men. Lincoln reached for the dish, whipped the cover off...and sighed. "I see Dad's spirit lives on."

It was beans.

And franks.

"Just shut up and eat," Lori said.

Lincoln ground his teeth but didn't say anything as he forked a heaping helping onto his plate. Lori was next, then Luan, then Liby; she spilled some on her skirt.

"Nice fumble," Lacy snorted, and Liby blushed bright red; she hated making mistakes in front of her siblings because they tore her apart when she did.

"You're supposed to eat it, not wear it," Leia said.

Lemy tittered. "Liby drop food!"

Lincoln sighed deeply and glanced up at Liena; she watched him intently, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth.

"How was your day?" Lori asked the table in general as she spooned some beans onto her own plate.

"Awesome," Lacy said, "I got to third base." Everyone looked at her, and she rolled her eyes. "In baseball."

"I remember _my _first time to third base," Lori said and looked up at Lincoln, her lips curling up in a devious smile. Lincoln remembered too: She and Bobby had just broken up and he was comforting her. They were sitting on the couch watching a movie with a blanket thrown over their laps when somehow, he wound up with his hand down her pants, and she wound up with hers down his. He grinned as he recalled the feeling of that first sinful nut with one of his sisters: It was so powerful he felt like he was shooting out his soul instead of his seed.

"So do I," Lola said and looked at Lana, who blushed.

Lemy reached for his glass, but his fingers brushed it and it tipped over, spilling milk across the tabletop. "Goddamn it," Lori sighed. "You're a real klutz, you know that?"

Lemy tittered.

She got up and grabbed a rag. As she cleaned, Lincoln angrily forked bits of hotdog into his mouth. Every time he ate this shit he was reminded of the ass whipping his father gave him when he, Lynn, and Lucy told him and Mom they were both pregnant: There was so much scar tissue on his ass that to this day it felt like he was sitting on a bag full of dirty laundry sometimes. He was so happy when that bald son of a bitch took Vanzilla and left that he cried.

"So, I stole second," Lacy was saying. She shoved a spoon full of beans into her mouth, and they oozed back out from her cleft, some of it dropping onto her shirt.

Uh-oh.

Leia snickered. "What's the matter, Lacy...got a hole in your chin?"

Lacy's head whipped up and she fixed her sister with a deadly gaze.

"Leia, that was mean," Lola said admonishingly.

"It's true," Leia said, "her face looks like a World War I battlefield."

Lincoln started to yell at her, but Luan slapped her across the back of the head. "That's enough," she said sharply.

Excited by his younger sister's cry of pain, Lemy giggled like a girl and threw himself against the table: Liena's glass tipped over and she jumped up with a sharp yelp that hurt Lincoln's ears. "Lemy! You got me wet! And totes not in a good way!"

"Nice going, Lemy," Lacy said savagely.

"Yeah, idiot," Leia added.

Lemy looked around in confusion, tears filling his eyes.

"Alright, everyone shut up," Lincoln said firmly. After that, no one spoke again until dinner was over.

* * *

Lupa Loud left her crutches at the bottom of the stairs and pulled herself up the steps, stopping to rest once halfway up. Leia, of course, chose than time to come bounding down, and stepped on Lupa's knuckles, which brought tears to the little goth's eyes.

"Oops," Leia said over her shoulder, "sorry." Her tone indicated that she was _not _sorry, but of course she wasn't. The little bitch did it on purpose: She was a grade A sadist. A sociopath, too. Lupa knew because she wasn't dumb like some of her siblings, she read a lot of books and watched a lot of Investigation Discovery. Leia displayed all the classic signs of being a fucking psychopath: She liked hurting people, manipulating them, and, like Lemy, she had a thing for fire. Several times now Lupa had caught her sister with her lighter, flicking it and grinning satanically. If it was up to Lupa, Leia would be in the bed next to Lyra at the psych ward, but it wasn't because no one ever listened to her. Mom, Dad, and her aunts thought they knew so much better. Pffft.

In the room she shared with Lacy, Lupa closed the door, climbed onto her bed, and reached into the nightstand drawer for her cigarettes and lighter. She took one out, put it between her lips, and lit it, drawing the smoke in deeply. Ahhhh, yes, warm my cold, dead heart.

She didn't realize she wasn't alone until Lacy spoke from her bed. "Those things are going to kill you."

Lupa nodded and took a drag, her eyes pointed at the water-splotched ceiling. "I know."

Lacy turned onto her side in a rustle of fabric, her eyes widening. "Do you _want _to die?"

Lupa opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself off. Sometimes, when her clinical depression snuck up on her, yes, she did want to die; she wanted to close her eyes to this miserable, good for nothing world and drift away. Most of the time, though, she didn't...not that she had a particular zest for life.

"No," she finally said, "but we all have to do it sometime." She took another drag and blew it out slowly, the smoke spreading in the stagnant air like like radiation over a blast site. Lacy watched her for a moment, then shook her head. She grabbed her tennis ball from the nightstand and got to her feet.

"At least crack a window."

Lupa nodded and took another puff, her lips curling thirstily around the filter. "Sure thing."

In the hall, Lacy tossed her ball into the air and started toward the stairs; she'd go out back and play a little handball or something. She was approaching the top step when Lemy's door flew open and he came out in just his underwear. She noticed his erection and sighed. Oh, do _not _come to me for this.

A stupid smile crept across his face when he saw her. "Laaaaaacccccyyy...I need jack-jack."

Lemy had a series fire fetish, and spent most of his time in his room looking at pictures of it and leering like a trailer park pedophile. Sometimes he got so worked up that he needed one of his sisters to relieve him. He _could _do it himself, but an orgasm always feels better when someone else gave it to you, Lacy knew that first hand: She'd been having sex with her father since she was ten. She didn't mind jacking him off (or even sucking him), but he rarely ever bathed, and his crotch smelled like the inside of a locker room toilet.

"No," she said and started down the stairs.

"Please!" he cried and grabbed her shoulder, "I need jack-jack!" His nails dug into her flesh, and she tensed; if it were anyone else, she would have swung around and clocked them. It _wasn't _just anyone, though, it was her only brother.

Sighing, Lacy turned. "Fine." She gestured with her hands. "Whip it out."

Lemy tittered madly, reached into his pants, and pulled out his dick: What he lacked in mind he more than made up for in body. His dick was big is what I'm saying. If he could last more than two pumps, he'd be a hell of a lay.

Rolling her eyes, Lacy wrapped her fingers around his length and squeezed. Lemy's breath caught and he rested his forehead against hers. She stroked slowly at first, trying to ascertain how long it would take him: He was hot and thick, which told her it would be over fast. She increased her speed. His eyes rolled back into his head and a ribbon of drool spilled down his chin. "Fffffiiiirrrrreeee," he moaned.

"Yep," Lacy said, "fire."

He giggled and jerked, his dick expanding and releasing. His seed splattered her shirt and shorts, then coursed down her leg. As he did every time he came, he shook and moaned, his entire body quivering and his hips thrusting madly.

"There," Lacy said and unhanded him, "happy?"

He nodded.

"Good." She turned and went down the stairs just as Leia was coming up. Lacy was not overly impulsive, but that chin joke Leia made during dinner came back to her, and as they passed, she shot out her fist and punched the little girl in the shoulder as hard as she could; Leia's feet went out from under her and she collapsed with a cry.

"You bitch!" she screamed.

"Next time it'll be your nose, you little fuck," Lacy growled.

She froze when Leia spoke next. "Great, then I'll look like _you_."

Lacy was very sensitive about her cleft; she knew it was hideous, and she spent more time looking at her face in the mirror and hating it...wishing it was different, better...than she cared to admit. Growing up, she was taunted mercilessly by her classmates until she eventually got sick of feeling like garbage every day and started beating them up. All of her siblings knew this...knew how she felt...and _none _of them made fun of it.

Except for Leia.

Lacy turned slowly, her hands balling into fists and heat spreading across her face: Blood crashed in her temples and her heart slammed. Leia was on her feet now, holding the rail and looking down at Lacy as though she were an exceptionally disgusting bug: Chin jutted, eyes narrow, lips screwed up in a sour expression. "You better shut your mouth," Lacy said, her voice trembling.

For a moment they stared each other down before Leia shook her head and turned. Even after she was gone, Lacy stood on the stairs and fought to catch her breathing. She _hated _Leia; in fact, she was the _only _one of her siblings that she honestly and truly hated.

Little cunt.

Still filled with angry energy, Lacy went into the backyard and ran sprints, pausing only long enough to punch the fence on each pass. Her knuckles were raw and bloody, but she didn't care. Pain felt good when she was mad.

She was not aware that she was being watched from an upstairs window: Two brown eyes burned with hateful intensity as they traced the jock's every move. Leia bared her teeth and dug her nails into the pads of her palms so hard they drew blood.

Leia's feelings for her siblings ran the gauntlet from abiding disgust (Loan) to neutral indifference (Lulu), but Lacy...she fucking _hated _Lacy. Lacy thought she was big and tough and every time she won a sports trophy she paraded it around like it was the greatest thing in the world...like _she _was the greatest thing in the world. But she wasn't. Leia was: She was prettier and smarter and just _better _than everyone else. In fact, her only deficiency was her inability to fake emotions as well as everyone else. Then again, she didn't _want _to fake emotions. Everyone else could pretend to feel love and honor and all that crap, _she _would rather be open with her disdain.

"I'm going to get that bitch," she said and turned from the window. Lizy was sitting in the middle of her bed and building a model airplane. Her head was bowed, and her blonde hair veiled the side of her face. She grunted.

Leia shot daggers at the younger girl. That's it? A _grunt? _Flashing, she stalked over and snatched the half finished plane from her sister's lap. Lizy's head shot up and a mixture of anger and fear filled her good eye. "Hey!"

"You're disrespectful," Leia said.

"Give it back!"

"You need to be taught."

"Please!" she begged. "Daddy bought me that!"

That made Leia even angrier. Daddy shouldn't be buying dumb, blind Lizy things, he should be buying _her _things. Sneering, she launched the plane at the wall, and thrilled in the satisfying sound it made as it broke into a million little pieces.

Lizy's face twisted in agony and tears sprang to her eyes. "Have fun with your plane, you little cyclops," Leia said and jabbed her sister in the forehead with her finger.

Lizy sniffed and started to sob, her knees drawing to her chest and her arms wrapping around. Leia shook her head in disgust and left the room.

"I hate you!" Lizy cried through her tears.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up and blinked. Liena stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame and concern written across her face. Lizy shook her head and tried to speak, but cried harder.

Frowning deeply, Liena came in and sat next to her sister, her hand going tentatively to her back. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Leia," Lizy finally managed, "she broke my plane a-a-and called me a cyclops!"

Liena blinked. She started to ask what a sighcops was, but shook her head. That wasn't important right now, what _was _important was that her little sister was sad. "Maybe we can fix it," she suggested.

Lizy sniffed. "Maybe."

Liena ran her sister's hair through her fingers. "Sure, let's, like, give it a try."

They weren't able to fix it, but Lizy really appreciated her sister's efforts. If only Leia was more like Liena, things would be _so _much better.

* * *

***Contains spoilers***

**On January 14, 2018, a California teenager climbed through a window in her parents' home and stumbled into the night. She was malnourished, crisscrossed with bruises, and terrified of what would happen to her if her mother and father found her, but the inhuman abuse she and her twelve siblings had endured over years pushed her on. Using a stolen cellphone, she called the police, and what responding officers found was nothing short of a charnel house. 13 children ranging in age from 2 to 29 shackled, beaten, and starved, - the oldest, a woman, weighed just 82 pounds. Early news reports stated that the children were fed just one meal a day, allowed to bathe once per year, and were marched through the house at night like POWs on a journey to nowhere. Investigators were surprised by the systematic character of the abuse - most child abuse is not premeditated, but what David and Louise Turpin did to their thirteen children was.**

**I listened to radio reports of the Turpin case every night for a week at work. As a parent, I was shocked and sickened. What kind of monster does that to their own children? I tried to imagine what those kids went through - the suffocating despair, the hopelessness, the constant, gnawing fear - and I saw the Loud family. That was only natural, I suppose, since I'd been writing Loud House fan fiction non-stop since the previous May; our minds seek to contextualize the unknown by comparing it to the known. Our brains are hardwired to make meaning out of chaos, and for me, my first step to understanding the Turpin case was by relating it to characters I knew and loved. I saw Lori and Lincoln climbing out of a window in the dead of night the way the unnamed Turpin daughter did. They were hurt. They were scared. And most of all, they were betrayed. The very people who should have loved and protected them - their parents - beat, strangled, and starved them instead. Lana, Lola, Lynn, all the others, were tied to their beds, or locked in tomb-like closets. Lincoln and Lori were both scared, but they pressed on regardless because their sisters needed them to.**

**Inside of three days, I resolved to one day write a Loud House story based on the Turpin family.**

**Just as soon as Reeling in the Years was done, which, at that time, I stupidly believed it would be by March.**

**Around that same time, I was turning a comment someone had left on, I think, Work With Me, over and over in my head. I can't recall what it said exactly, but it pointed out that the Luancoln child born in it was serendipitously free of defects just like every other incest child in the fandom. I was vaguely aware of the sin kids at that point, mainly as names in summaries of FFN stories (who the hell is Lupa? Did I miss an episode?) and with a few other 'cest kids, ala the Lunacoln child from Fallen Pens' One Night Stand, and, you know what, none of them did have anything wrong. I didn't expect dramatic deformities (say, a cleft palate or spaghetti legs), but children born of incest are at a much higher risk for many genetic diseases, such as cystic fibrosis and sickle cell anemia. The more I thought about it, the more unrealistic it seemed that with all these brother x sister kids cropping up, none had any sort of problems. It started to feel like people were dismissing the very real dangers of inbreeding in the name of "muh OC."**

**I decided, one day, to be just as unrealistic in the opposite direction, to write a story where Lincoln's kids with his sisters are all fucked up.**

**At some point while telling all this to AberrantScript, he directed me to Pat's sin kids graph on DeviantArt. He followed all the artists and Tumblr and fandom stuff, I didn't. I didn't know shit, to be honest. I knew who JumpJump was but that was about it. So I get there and I check this thing out - pretty self-explanatory, all the kids look exactly like their mothers in dress and demeanor if not physical appearance, lot of the same color schemes, etc. Okay, I thought with a shrug, I'll use these characters. I was only planning a oneshot, and that turned into the first chapter of The 'Cest Kids.**

**I was going to abandon it, but the Turpin case came back to me, and I realized that, with The 'Cest Kids, I had a premise that was close to that Loud / Turpin crossover I'd been planning. The abuse aspect wasn't present in the oneshot, so I'd have to largely forgo that, but, sure, I thought, why not? I looked at what I had on the page - an unhappy alcoholic, a sadistic little girl, a firebug, a schizophrenic, and the others - and got to work. The result was a story that somehow morphed into a dark satire about moral and familial decay and has been called "edge" more times than that dude from U2 (whose name is literally Edge).**

**The 'Cest Kids is first and foremost a story about things falling apart. Things had been falling apart since before it began, and continued right up to the very end. There were other themes and topics I touched on, namely how selfishness and complacency lead only to ruin. Every evil act in The 'Cest Kids was committed out of selfishness, and the only two people who could maybe have stopped it - Lupa and Lori - didn't. They sat by and watched until they, too, were engulfed.**

**The characters in The 'Cest Kids are all broken people, exaggerated and cartoonish to a degree, but reflections of reality nevertheless. Lincoln was the man who couldn't say no. He took shit from his sisters for years and became bitter. When the story starts, he's hanging on by threads, and those threads sever entirely when he aborts Lacy's baby. That is the moment he snaps, just like many men in real life do; you see them on CNN shooting up post offices and high schools. The sisters were emotional vampires in a way. It was revealed in the final chapters that they and Lincoln were abused and disowned by their parents. They didn't get the love and support they needed from Rita and Lynn Sr., so they latched onto Lincoln and drained it from him, only it wasn't enough...because with people like them, it never is. I've used the "cracked mug" analogy several times before. People who are emotionally broken are like a cracked coffee mug. You fill it with liquid, and it all leaks out until it's empty again. Some people are so broken that they cannot retain the love they are given. It might last a little while, but before long, it's all gone and they're back for more. Often times, this leads to things like constant sleeping around, cheating...in essence, chasing a fleeting feeling like a crackhead chasing a midnight high.**

**No, whatever Lincoln gave them would never be enough. Nothing anyone gave them would be enough.**

**They were all, Lincoln and his sisters, withered vines...and they bore rotted fruit.**

**To quote Chapter 11 of The Loud Warrior (only because I had a stroke and somehow managed to say it better there than I ever will again): "To love others...to love a child...you must first love yourself. These creatures prove again and again through their actions that they do not love themselves, and are as unfit for parenthood as they are for life. Broken men and broken women can only make broken homes...and broken children. Those broken children grow into more broken men and women who one day preside over a broken society…"**

**The kids were all broken in one way or another and almost all of the parents showed, at one point or another, that they did not love their children. They said they did, they may even have believed they did, but when the pressure was on, many of them cracked and walked away.**

**I treated other themes here and there, one of which was abuse. Leia abused Lizy, then in the end, Lizy began to abuse Lulu, even calling her the same name (One-Eye) that Leia called her. Children who are abused often become abusers themselves, a cycle herein set in motion by Leia selfishly indulging her psychopathic urges.**

**That indulgence brings us back to evil. I wrote somewhere else that the root of all evil is not money but selfishness, and that's something I honestly believe. Lynn, Lucy, Lola, Luna, Leia, Lemy, even Lyra - antagonists all, to a greater or lesser extent - each acted evilly because they were selfish, Lemy by molesting Liby, Lynn by assaulting Lacy and killing Lyra, Lucy, Lola, and Luna by abandoning their children when they needed them most, Leia by what she did to Lizy and by setting Lincoln on fire, and Lyra by killing Leia. They all had their own internal justifications for what they did...but evil people always do.**

**I believe that people like the characters in The 'Cest Kids - and like the Turpins - are far more numerous than we might like to think, the broken people, the emotional vampires, the sadists, the sit-by-and-watch-the-world-burn types, the men who can't say no until they do it with the barrel of a gun, the selfish, the abusers, the evil.**

**In life, as in The 'Cest Kids, evil flourishes when good people stand aside and do nothing, and it's all too easy for one selfish act to send lethal ripples through the world - or a family.**


	2. Making Plans

**TheGreatestWriter: You are absolutely right. Human beings are built to hope because without hope, you have nothing. I also think that we all see ourselves as the star of the show, and in movies, the hero always comes through in the end and all of the chaos that went before is made right again. A sense of balance has been restored. A story like this forces us to confront the fact that life is not a movie, the good guy doesn't always win (sometimes there is no clear cut good guy), and that, most importantly, we don't always get closure. There are a lot of things in life that remain undone and unsaid, loose ends that Hollywood might tie up at the end of a film so the audience walks away feeling good, but that dangle sometimes forever in real life. That's something else I was trying to say with this story, especially the end. i compromised, though, because there was some closure, though not as much as people would have liked. **

**Loud Risque: Someone called me "an overrated pervert with a keyboard" once so, being sarcastic, I used it as my bio. No, I'm not a cop or a teacher or anything like that, I'm just a loser who writes.**

**Guest: I may one day write a story like that. Maybe it will even be a prequel to The 'Cest Kids.**

**The Keeper of Worlds: They do take a few generations. Like I said in my author note, I intentionally used unrealistic deformities to counterbalance what I felt as the depiction of incest children as unrealistically healthy and "normal."**

**CipherFiveZero: I might make changes here and there. **

**Guest: Lisa acting as a type of genetic midwife is, I think, an idea that crops up from time to time in the sin kids fandom, but most people don't take it seriously. **

* * *

Lupa Loud hobbled down the hallway the next morning, the tips of her crutches making a steady, metallic sound as they tap-tap-tapped against the floor. Lacy walked next to her, a black Nike bag slung over one shoulder. On Lupa's other side, Liby walked with her head down: She was painfully shy and never, ever looked up. She reminded Lupa of a mouse - a timid, frightened little mouse. Sometimes it made Lupa sad...and other times, for some reason, it made her angry: She wanted to snatch the girl up by the front of her shirt and shake her until she snapped out of it.

"I'm really looking forward to practice today," Lacy said, "I'm gonna mop up. Guaranteed."

Everyone has their own way of coping with their problems. For Lacy, it was being the best at sports. Running faster, hitting harder, and winning more made her feel better about herself. At least that's how Lupa saw it, and while she wasn't an expert in psychology, she _did _stay at a Holiday Inn last night.

Heh. That was a joke; can't be doom and gloom _all _the time, right?

Where was she? Oh, yeah, Lacy. That's how _she _dealt with her problems. Sometimes it was heartbreaking, and other times it was annoying.

"Cool," Lupa said.

"Amanda Paulson won't know what hit her."

Amanda Paulson was Lacy's archrival on the football team. Lupa didn't know her very well, but she suspected that, like Lacy, she overachieved at sports to compensate for something bad in her life. Maybe she was dirt poor, or maybe she was being molested. Either way, she struck Lupa as a mirror image of Lacy...so of course they hated each other's guts. What did that say about their frame of mind...about Lacy's? Again, she wasn't an expert, but if you meet someone just like you and hate them, that probably means you hate yourself, too.

Lupa sighed.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Liby said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Lacy rolled her eyes. "Really? We're gonna be late as it is."

"I-I'm sorry," Liby said.

Lacy slumped her shoulders. "Come on."

SIde-by-side-by-side, they made their way to the girls' room next to the gym. Lupa rested on her crutches and Lacy crossed her arms while Liby stood in front of the entrance. She looked up at Lacy, and Lacy groaned. Taking her sister's hand, Lacy led her into the bathroom. Liby didn't like going in by herself because oftentimes the girls already in there would make fun of her.

_Why are kids so goddamn cruel? _Lupa wondered as she leaned back against the wall and watched kids pass on their way to class. She thought of Leia and scrunched her lips to the side. Leia was...different. Or was she? Maybe everyone was a complete fucking sociopath except for Lupa...maybe _she _was the one who was fucked in the head. She scanned the faces of her classmates, and felt such a dizzy rush of alienation that she could barely breathe. Her mind turned to the pack of razor blades hidden in her underwear drawer. Her arms, hidden in the folds over her oversized hoodie, tingled at the memory of past incisions. None of her siblings knew about the ugly white scars crisscrossing her skin...none knew that sometimes, as she lie in bed at night, she held a blade to her soft, pulsing throat and tried, fruitlessly, to gather the courage to jerk it across. Eventually she figured she would. The world was already gray and bland, each day identical to the one before. By the time she was thirty she would probably _beg _for death.

The bell rang, and the hall started to clear. She spotted Leia making her way to class, her blonde hair done up in pigtails and her pink skirt fluttering around her knobby knees. The little girl glanced up, saw her older sister, and sneered openly. Lupa flipped her off.

Leia stopped, roughly fifteen feet away, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing with malevolent fire. "No legs," she hissed.

Lupa felt a flush of hot anger, her cheeks turning red and her jaw setting. Leia laughed and continued on, Lupa trailing her with her gaze. _I hate that little bitch, _Lupa thought bitterly, and hated herself: Leia didn't deserve her hatred, but Lupa gave it to her regardless.

Liby and Lacy came out of the bathroom then, Liby clutching her sister's hand as though it were a life preserver and she a drowning girl. "Come on," Lacy said.

At the end of the hall, Lupa and Lacy dropped Liby off at the special ed room. Lupa peered in and saw Lemy kneeling in front of a toy oven and staring at it intently, as if waiting for something...like fire. His mom didn't trust him to walk, even with the others, so she dropped him off each day herself.

Once Liby was situated, Lacy and Lupa made their way to class, getting there just as the teacher was beginning his lesson. He looked up when they came in and frowned, but didn't say anything. Lupa's face burned self-consciously as she made her way to her seat at the very back. Setting her crutches aside, she sat and drew her useless legs under the desk.

"As I was saying," the teacher said, and Lupa tuned him out. She didn't care about history...or math...or science. In fact, she didn't care about school period.

Down the hall, Lemy sat next to his sister and stared at a crumpled piece of paper he ripped from one of his magazines at home, his lips slightly parted and his breathing heavy. It depicted a house engulfed in flames. His dick was hard, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. So beautiful...so _red_. He tittered and glanced over at Liby, who was absently molding a lump of green Play-Doh with slender fingers. She sensed him looking at her and turned her head. "What?" she asked softly.

Lemy held the paper out. "Fire," he said.

Liby looked at it, then at him. "Fire scares me."

"I kkkkknnnnnoooowwwww," he said and laughed.

Liby looked back down at her Play-Doh. She hated sitting next to Lemy; he scared her just as badly as the fire he loved so much. One time, he showed her his...thing...and asked her to touch it. Gross. And sometimes, she caught him looking at her the way a hungry dog would look at a piece of meat. He was her brother and she loved him, but he still creeped her out.

She squished the Play-Doh between her fingers and tried to ignore Lemy's ragged breathing, but couldn't. She glanced at him, and he was smiling broadly at his fire.

Liby shivered.

* * *

Lyra Loud got home just before noon. Sitting in the passenger seat with her hands in her lap, she stared out the rain-sluiced window and listened passively to the music filtering from the speakers. Normally, she would tap her foot or nod her head, but she was very groggy from her medication, and she could barely keep her eyelids open.

Behind the wheel, her mother bobbed her head back and forth, her gaze focused on the street. They hadn't spoken since they first got into the car and Mom asked her "How was it?" the way she did every time she picked up her from the hospital. _Fine, _Lyra replied simply. It was anything but, though; she spent two days on a locked ward alone and afraid. How did she _think _it was?

When they pulled into the driveway, Lyra unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. She pulled her purple coat closed against the chill and hurried up the walk, her mother following behind. Inside, Aunt Lori and Aunt Luan were sitting on the couch in front of a soap opera, Lori in a blue robe and Luan's hair in curlers. Before they could make a big deal about her being home, she rushed up the stairs and disappeared into the room she shared with Liby, a rush of warm familiarity washing over her when she she walked through the door. She took her coat off and kicked out of her shoes; she crossed to her bed on socked feet and dropped onto it with a sigh, her arms and legs spreading against the mattress. Her eyes fell closed and she snuggled deeply into the covers, the comfort of being in her own home and surrounded by her own things almost intoxicating after two days of being away. She wanted to sleep, but she was excited, and after a few minutes she sat up and grabbed her guitar from its spot between the bed and nightstand.

Like her mother, Lyra loved music. Unlike her mother, she wasn't very good with instruments, even though she had been taking lessons for two years. Her strong suit was her voice: She had been singing since she was a little girl, and when she gave voice to the song within, she could forget the pain and misery of her sickness.

She held the guitar and strummed the strings with her fingers, producing a nameless, clumsy melody. She frowned and turned the tuners. She started to play again, but she was too tired, so she replaced it and leaned back against the headboard with a frustrated sigh. She _hated _feeling this way; the cure was almost worse than the sickness.

Almost.

She didn't realize she was drifting until a tentative knock at the door roused her. She opened her eyes and saw Lizy standing in the doorway, an uncertain expression on her face. Lyra smiled warmly. "Hey," she said tiredly.

"Hey," Lizy said, "how are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Lyra said. "And happy to be home." She patted the bed next to her. "Wanna hang?"

Lizy's face lit up. "Sure!" She came in and climbed onto the mattress, crawling over and sitting beside her older sister. Lyra put her arm around the little girl's shoulder and drew her close.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Lizy shrugged. "Not really. Same old, same old."

"Lemy didn't start any fires?"

Lizy shook her head.

"Lacy didn't break any windows?"

"Nope."

Well, that was good; the last time Lacy drove a football through a window, Dad lost his shit. Lyra smiled weakly at the memory of him literally falling to his knees, his fingers pressed to his temples. _Jesus Christ, not another one! _He could be _really _dramatic sometimes. To be fair, though, Lacy _did _break a lot of shit. You ever see a war movie where guys are storming a beach or something and bullets are whizzing over their heads? That's what living with Lacy was like, only they were balls instead of bullets. Soccer balls, baseballs, tennis balls. Once Lyra was playing her guitar when a basketball flew through the door, slammed in her in the head, and knocked her off her feet: The guitar flew from her hands and hit the ground at exactly the right angle to snap the neck off.

Lizy snuggled into her sister's side. "I _did _finish the Mustang I was working on."

One of Lizy's favorite pastimes was building models: Cars, planes, ships, and Transformers. She had been working on the Mustang for nearly a month. It was a very intricate model as far as Lyra could tell, with more bits, pieces, and moving parts than an actual car.

"That's cool," Lyra said and yawned, "can I see it?"

"Sure. Let me get it."

Lizy jumped up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with it in her hands. She beamed proudly as she came over and held it up. "The engine block took me the longest," she explained. Lyra took it and turned it over in her hands. It was red and sleek, a late sixties or early seventies model.

"Ride, Sally, ride," she grinned and gave it back.

Lizy tilted her head in confusion.

"It's a song," Lyra explained.

"Oh...can you sing it to me?"

Lizy loved it when Lyra sang to her.

"I don't know it very well," Lyra confessed, "but yeah, okay." She picked her little sister up and sat her on her lap. She glanced up at the ceiling as she tried to remember the lyrics. She cleared her throat and started to sing in a high, clear voice. "I bought you a brand new Mustang….1965...something, something, ride around, Sally."

Lizy giggled.

"That's pretty much all I know," Lyra said.

"I like it," Lizy said.

"Yeah, it's a pretty wicked track," Lyra replied. "I think my mom has the CD somewhere. I can ask her for it."

Lizy nodded.

Lyra caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye and turned toward the door. Liena grinned widely. "Hi..you're home!"

"Yeah, I'm home," Lyra said.

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

Liena came in and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands going to her knees. "I missed you," she said seriously.

"I missed you too," Lyra said. She reached out and took her older sister's hand. In the depths of her last paranoid episode, Lyra was certain that Liena was plotting to kill her. Every comment, every wayward glance, every chance meeting in the hall convinced her that Liena was getting closer and closer to striking. Her only choice, then, was to strike first.

She shivered at the thought of what she may have done had her mother not taken her to Dr. Lopez. She loved her siblings dearly (even Leia, who called her Norman Bates), and the thought of hurting one of them made her sick to her stomach.

"I was really, like, worried," Liena said, "I don't like it when you have to stay at the doctor's."

Lyra sighed. "Neither do I, but hopefully that'll be _the _last time."

It wasn't.

* * *

All that day, Leia Loud planned her older sister's downfall. She did this coldly and methodically, the way a chess player plans her next move; she envisioned a thousand possible avenues of revenge, carefully examined them from every angle, then rejected them. The point, she figured, was to do it in a way that it would never come back on her, and that wasn't exactly easy. She _did _have an idea, but it required an accomplice...and not just _any _accomplice - her retarded brother, Lemy. Using him was like playing with fire (pun intended): He was so goddamn stupid he'd probably give her up the first chance he got.

She wasn't crazy about Lemy being involved, but she _did _like the plan otherwise; not only would it take care of Lacy, but of Lupa as well...and maybe others. She saw it in her mind and grinned devilishly. Oh, it was _beautiful_.

Did she really _need _Lemy, though? He'd naturally be the first suspect, so she _could _do it herself. She kind of wanted him to be caught red handed, bu she _guessed _he didn't have to be.

At snack time, the boy next to her pulled a pack of cookies from his book bag: They looked really good. Leaning in, she batted her eyelashes. "What'cha got there?" she asked.

"Devil's food cookies," he said with a smug edge that Leia didn't like.

"Can I have one?"

"No," he said, "I only have a couple."

Wrong answer. She snatched the pack out of his hand. "Now you have none."

"Hey!" he cried and whipped around. "Give them back!"

Instead, she ripped the package open, plucked one out, and tossed it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his. She chewed slowly, making a long, obscene _ummmmm_ noise and rolling her eyes back into her head like the sluts in the porn movies Daddy watched with Lacy and Liena. His face flushed red. "Give...them...back."

She swallowed and took another cooke out. "No," she said.

His face hardened, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. Instead, he turned to the teacher and shot his hand up. "Mrs. Morris!"

Little snitch. She angrily crushed the package in her hand, squishing the last two cookies, and then smashed it against the back of his head. "Here," she growled, "fag."

He cried out, and Mrs. Morris came over. "What's going on?"

"Leia took my cookies and hit me," the boy said, beginning to cry. Leia rolled her eyes in disgust. She _hated _crying.

Mrs. Morris turned a stern eye on her. "Is that true, Leia?"

"No," Leia said, "I asked him for one and he pulled my hair."

"Did not!"

Mrs. Morris sighed. "James, move to another seat. Leia, one more incident like this and I'm sending you to the principal's office."

Leia was very adept at picking her battles, and this was one battle that she did not want to fight; she had bigger fish to fry than some little bitch and his nasty, chalky cookies. She bowed her head. "Yes, ma'am," she said in faux contrition.

At recess, Leia sat by herself on a bench and watched the other kids running around and climbing the playground equipment like retards. Speaking of retards, she spotted Liby sitting slack on the swing, her head bowed and her shoes dragging in the mulch. Lemy was nearby, holding onto a pole and spinning around it like the moron he was. Leia rolled her eyes; one of life's greatest tragedies was that _she _was related to _them_. Loan was a total, drooling 'tard; Liena was just plain stupid; Lyra was a skitzo; Liby was 'tard too; Lupa was a cripple ass emo bitch; Lacy was a cunt with a face like the Grand Canyon; Lemy was a pyro; Lizy was half blind and had a frog hand; and Lulu was a shitty, smelly baby. How in the name of God did someone so perfect wind up being born into a family like _this? _It wasn't fair. She should be a princess or a socialite; instead she lived in a leaky old house with a freak show family.

She crossed her arms. She'd take care of them...she'd take care of _all _of them.

And she would enjoy it immensely.

When the final bell rang, she went to her locker, shoved her books in, and left the building; it was raining again, so she opened her umbrella (pink with purple and yellow hearts) and held it over her head as she followed the sidewalk home. She walked through the door fifteen minutes after setting out; Loan was lying on her back in the middle of the living room, her arms and legs spread out. For a wonderful second Leia thought she was dead, then she kicked her feet and grunted loudly. "Knock it off!" Lori called from the kitchen. "You can't have anymore candy, you'll spoil your dinner!"

Leia shut the door behind her and went up the stairs. In her room, Lizy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor and building a Lego monstrosity. Leia kicked it as she passed, and it exploded into a million pieces. "Hey!" Lizy cried.

"The floor is for walking, One Eye Willy, not playing with your little toys."

"_DON'T CALL ME THAT!"_

Leia turned to her sister and drew her foot back; Lizy shied away and threw her hands protectively over her face. "Shut up, frog fingers," Leia spat.

Crying, Lizy got to her feet and ran from the room, her hand covering her eyes. Leia kicked the blocks out of her way and dropped onto her bed. Could today get any worse?

Lyra walked by in the hall, and Leia slumped her shoulders. Oh, great, Skitz was back. Why did I even open my mouth? The older girl turned. "Hey, Lei."

Leia _hated _being called Lei. "Don't talk to me, Norman. I'm _not _in the mood for your paranoid bullshit."

A satisfying look of hurt crossed Lyra's face. She turned and hurried away. Fucking psycho.

Finally alone, Leia went back to her plotting. Should she use Lemy, or just frame him?


	3. A Quiet Evening at Home

Before going home that evening, Lincoln stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things for the house, and a case of beer for himself. Of course, they were out of adult diapers, so he had to drive across town to the Rite Aid by the railroad tracks, grumbling the whole way.

When he walked through the door twenty minutes later, he found Lyra, Lizy, and Lupa sitting on the couch in front of _Judge Judy_. Lacy was by the foot of the stairs bouncing a soccer ball off the top of her head, her eyes rolled up to see it and her lips moving silently as she counted. Lincoln slammed the door, and she started, the ball plummeting to the floor and rolling away. "I am so sick of you not listening to me," Lincoln growled, his chest filled with anger. He went over, grabbed the ball, and carried it into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she plead and followed, "I was just excited from practice still."

Lori was at the stove while Lola sat at the table, smiling goofily down at her phone. Lincoln suspected she was cheating on him again. One sign was that every time they had sex, she just laid there looking bored, then when he was done she rolled over, grabbed her phone, and started texting someone. Whatever, though; Lana was a better fuck anyway.

At the drawer, he pulled out a knife, and Lacy's eyes widened. "Dad!"

Lincoln sat the ball on the counter, raised the knife, and brought it down in a deadly arc: It sank into it and it deflated.

"Daddy!" Lacy squealed, her voice thick with emotion.

Lori glanced over at him and lifted her brow, but didn't say anything. Gritting his teeth, Lincoln ripped the knife out and stabbed the ball again. Lacy started to cry.

"That's what you get for not listening," he said. He yanked the knife out, snatched the ball up, and threw it at his daughter: It hit her face and plopped limply to the floor. She bowed her head and wept bitterly, eventually turning around and storming off. Lincoln threw the knife into the sink, went to the fridge, and grabbed a beer.

Lola snorted at something on her phone, then her thumbs flew across the keyboard. "That was a little much," Lori said.

Lincoln cracked his beer and went into the living room, ignoring her. Maybe she and the others didn't mind being openly and perpetually disobeyed, but not him: If having Rita and Lynn Loud for parents taught him anything, it was that standing aside and letting your children run the show leads to complete and utter chaos. They were two limp dish rags when it came to discipline, which is why Luan got away with pranking the fuck out of everyone on April Fool's day until Lincoln and his sisters got fed up and ganged up on her one night: They put bars of soap in socks and beat her black and blue. And you know what? Lynn and Rita didn't do shit about that, either. Maybe he was an asshole sometimes, but kids listen to assholes.

He dropped onto the couch next to Lyra and took a drink.

"Hi, Daddy," she said.

"Hey, honey, how're you feeling?"

"Alright," Lyra said, "a little sleepy."

Lincoln nodded. "You'll eventually get used to it again." It would take a week before she had enough of her medication built up in her system that she would be able to function normally. Until then, she would be groggier than usual.

"I know," she said, "it sucks, though."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I bet it does." He tipped his can back and guzzled.

Upstairs, Lacy slammed her door and punched it as hard as she could, cracking it. Stupid son of a bitch, that was her only soccer ball! She turned and shot out her arms, tipping over her dresser with a crash. She was filled with rage, her chest heaving and her eyes blazing. FUCK HIM! She lashed out and kicked the dresser: Hot pain snaked up her foot and into her leg. Yelling, she hopped up and down on one foot, tears of pain welling in her eyes. LOOK WHAT HE MADE HER DO! She hobbled to her bed and sat on the edge.

So what she was bouncing her ball on her head? Yeah, Dad told her not to, but it wasn't _that _big a deal.

She rubbed her leg and fought to regulate her breathing. She was so angry she shook; she didn't get this mad very often, but when she did, holes appeared in the walls and things got broken. Hitting things when she was mad felt _soooo _good.

If she did that, though, she'd get in even _more _trouble.

Fuck this!

A knock came at the door, and Lacy ground her teeth. "What?"

It opened, and Leia stuck her head in, the corners of her mouth turned up in an evil grin. Lacy's eyes narrowed. "What do _you _want?"

Leia held up Lacy's deflated soccer ball. "You forgot something," the little girl said, and began to laugh.

Nuclear rage detonated in Lacy's chest, and before she knew what she was doing, she was up and running toward her sister. Fear filled Leia's eyes, and she turned to run, but Lacy snatched her by one of her pigtails and yanked her back. "You stupid fucking bitch!" Lacy cried; she balled her fist and brought it around, smashing Leia in the side of her face. The little girl's knees buckled and she screamed. Lacy hit her again, and again. Her vision blurred and blood crashed in her temples. Some vague part of her brain screamed at her to stop, but she couldn't; all of the rage she had built up over the years came spilling out, and when Leia fell, Lacy mounted her and punched her in the eye, then the nose, which burst under her fist. Leia thrashed and sobbed. "Fucking little shit sucking bitch! I hate you! I hate you!"

Suddenly, an arm snaked around Lacy's neck and pulled her back. She drove her elbow back, and her captor let out a breathless _humph. _"Get off of me!" Lacy screamed, and another arm grabbed her.

Leia sat up, her nose gushing blood and her eye already turning black. She shook with the force of her sobs.

Lacy screamed and fought as Lyra and Liena wrestled her to the ground. "Stop!" Liena cried, "please!"

Still weeping, Leia got to her feet and ran from the room, her sobs trailing behind her. She stumbled on the stairs and nearly fell, but caught herself. Her head ached and her nose felt like it was broken.

In the living room, her father twisted around on the couch; his eyes went wide when he saw her. "Leia! Honey, what happened?"

"L-L-Lacy beat me up!" Leia hitched as she came around the side of the couch.

"_What?"_

Lola and Lori came out of the kitchen, the former's hand going to her mouth and the latter's brow raising.

Lincoln didn't get truly angry very often, but the state of his little girl's face - eye black, nose shattered, cheeks covered in purple knuckle prints - sent him into the stratosphere. While Lola swept her daughter into her arms, Lincoln jumped up and took the stairs two at a time, his flesh burning and his muscles trembling. "Lincoln!" Lori called after him, but he ignored her.

Lacy was on her stomach in the middle of her room, Lyra's knee planted between her shoulder blades and Liena sitting aside, her face pale. "Get out!" Lincoln yelled, and all three of his daughters jumped.

Obeying, Liena jumped up and rushed past him. Lyra didn't move; Lincoln snatched her by the back of her shirt and dragged her off, flinging her aside. "Daddy!"

Lacy's body shook; she knew what was coming.

Lincoln stipped off his belt, brought it up, and lashed it across Lacy's back; the girl wailed and trembled.

"Daddy!" Lyra wept. "Stop!"

Lincoln pulled the belt back and brought it down again, this time across the backs of Lacy's legs. She screamed pitifully, her body tensing and hot tears flowing from her eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry!" Lacy sobbed. Lincoln cracked the belt one final time; it hit her between the shoulder blades with a meaty _thwock _and she moaned in agony.

Still shaking, Lincoln threw the belt aside and knelt next to his daughter. "If you _ever _hurt one of your little sisters again, I will put you in juvie. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Lacy sobbed. "I'm sorry, don't hurt me again!"

Lincoln got up and glanced at Lyra: She was sitting in the middle of the hall with her knees drawn to her chest and a haunted look in her eye; tears stained her sallow cheeks. Something about her drawn expression penetrated the fog of Lincoln's rage, and he looked down at Lacy: She was crying and trembling, an ugly red mark marring the creamy flesh of her legs. Lincoln blinked, and something approaching horror filled him.

He went too far.

In the living room, Lupa watched Leia; the little girl sat on the couch with her hands pressed to her face. Lola's arms were wrapped around her and she whispered soft, encouraging words. Lupa's face was placid, expressionless, but on the inside she was smiling. _You deserved it, _she thought.

Lola got up and went into the kitchen to get a first aid kit, and slowly, evilly, Leia began to laugh...

* * *

Dinner was a silent, somber affair: Lacy's face was red and wet with tears, and she stared down at her plate with a shell-shocked expression. Leia's nose was red and swollen, her right eye black and puffy and her porcelain flesh covered in bruises. Lyra and Liena looked as though she had seen a ghost, both of their faces pale and drawn. Loan sat in an adult high chair with a bib around her neck, Lori feeding her bits of mashed peas. Lizy stole a glance at Leia and felt a mixture of sympathy and satisfaction. Maybe she wouldn't be so mean to her now.

Lynn shot daggers at her brother, her lips screwed up and her eyes hard. When she got home and found out what happened, she and Lincoln got into a fight. She slapped him across the face and he slapped her back. _Look at her back, Lincoln! _Lynn cried, referring to the ugly red welts crisscrossing their daughter's skin. _Look at Leia's face, _Lincoln retorted. _Of course, _Lynn sneered, _your precious little Leia, poor baby. _Her face tingled at the memory of his blow, and she sought out the red palm mark on his cheek, a rush of savage satisfaction going through her.

Liby could sense the tension in the air, and her appetite suffered: She pushed her food around with her fork, her little heart throbbing with anxiety. She felt herself being watched, and looked up to see Lemy leering at her; he chewed with his mouth open, white mashed potatoes mixed with drool coursing down his chin. She hurriedly looked away.

"How was everyone's day?" Luna asked to break the deadly silence.

Lincoln stabbed a hunk of meat, the tines of his fork scraping against his plate. Luan took a drink and Lana lifted a spoonful of peas to her lips. Luna looked out over her children, siblings, and nieces. No one spoke. No one looked at her. "You ready for school tomorrow?" she asked Lyra.

Lyra nodded. "Yes." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Can I be excused?" Lacy asked suddenly. "My back hurts."

"Yes," Lynn said and looked pointedly at Lincoln, who couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. Lacy slipped out of her chair with a mumbled "Thank you," took her dishes to the sink, then scurried out of the room. Lincoln watched her go from the corner of his eye, his stomach knotting with guilt. He drew a heavy breath and finished the rest of his beer.

"Can I be excused too, Daddy?" Leia asked. "My nose, eye, face, and mouth all hurt."

"Yes," Lincoln said.

She got up, took her things to the sink, then disappeared.

Lupa trailed the little girl with her eyes. She couldn't be sure, but she suspected Leia planned the whole thing, knowing full well that Lacy would snap and that Dad, too, would snap in turn. She was a devious little bitch, and at this point, Lupa wouldn't put _anything _past her.

When dinner was over, Lincoln took another beer from the fridge and guzzeled it. His mind was fuzzy, but the guilt in his chest was still sharp. SIghing, he tossed the empty into the trash can and went upstairs. Lacy's door was closed, and for a long time he stood in front of it and tried to build up the courage to face his daughter. Finally, he knocked, and Lupa called out for him to enter. He turned the knob and pushed it open: Lupa was lying on her bed, her arm hanging over the side and a cigarette between her fingers. Lacy was humped under the covers and unmoving. "Hey, Dad," Lupa said, and Lacy tensed.

"Hey," Lincoln said and rubbed the back of his neck, "I, uh...I need to talk to your sister."

Lupa lifted the cigarette to her lips. "Then talk."

Lincoln closed the door behind him, went over to Lacy's bed, and sat, his hand going to her shoulder. His heart broke at the way her body trembled under his touch. "Honey," he started, "I-I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I...I was wrong to do that."

Lacy didn't reply.

"I just…" he trailed off and drew a deep breath. "I lost it."

Lupa blew a plume of smoke which hung lazily in the air.

Lincoln twisted around and looked down at Lacy's face: She stared at her sister, her lips flattened and her expression hard. He touched her cheek, and she turned slightly, her big, brown eyes meeting his own. He saw hurt in them, and he began to cry. "I'm sorry," he said.

Lacy watched him for a moment, then sighed. "It's okay, Dad. I shouldn't have beaten Leia up."

Lincoln leaned over and brushed her bangs from her face. The yeasty smell of beer on his breath found her nostrils, and her nose pinched. "Kids fight," he said, "but what I did…" he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lacy. I love you."

His tearful eyes were pooled with ernesty, and Lacy's heart broke. She loved her Daddy dearly, and she knew how hard things were on him...yet she made it worse by not listening to him. He didn't ask for much, just for her to not play ball in the house, but she couldn't do even that. She was a terrible daughter…a terrible person...she deserved what she got, but she did not deserve him.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she met his lips with her own, their tongues meeting and swirling. He slipped his hand into her hair and she touched the side of his face. Despite her flaws - her stubbornness, her ugly cleft - he still loved her. Why, she didn't know, but he did, and she was so grateful for that that she could cry.

Lupa took a drag and flicked her ash into the ashtray on the nightstand, her body freezing when she saw her father slipping under the covers and mounting her sister. They kissed hungrily, desperately, their lips making wet sounds that Lupa found endlessly disgusting. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Shaking with passion, Lincoln slipped his hands under his daughter's shirt and danced his fingers over her taut stomach and the gentle swell of her pubescent breasts. She gasped into his mouth and spread her legs; his bulge raked her center through his jeans, and the crotch of her gym shorts dampened with her rising desire.

He broke the kiss, and with trembling fingers, he pulled down her shorts and unzipped his pants; they gazed deeply into each other's eyes as he aligned their sexes and pushed down, his tip penetrating her. She gasped.

Lupa tipped her ash again and thought of Leia. Something had to be done about her; she was a goddamn menace to society. What, though? She imagined creeping into her sister's room late at night and strangling her, but shivered. Lupa Loud might be a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them.

"Daddy…" Lacy moaned and arched her back. Her father planted soft kisses along her jaw, across her neck, and on her shoulder. His hips rocked in time with hers, and everything - the rage, the pain, the hatred - drained away from her, for in that moment only he existed, and he loved her completely.

"I love you," he said huskily.

"I love you too."

Lupa stubbed her cigarette out and laced her fingers over her chest.

"Daddy...I'm cumming…."

"Me too, baby, me too…"

Lacy wrapped her legs around her father's waist and squeezed. Her orgasm burst within her, and she was swept away on a tide of pleasure. Dad thrusted once, twice, three times, then swelled painfully against her walls with a long, low moan. His hot, sticky seed shot from him and splashed against the opening of her cervix, making her shudder and squeal. "Lacy…" he moaned.

Lupa glanced over at her father and sister: He held himself up and stared down into Lacy's eyes, a little smile on his lips. Lacy smiled back, her eyes filled with love and adoration, the beating she caught earlier that afternoon apparently forgotten.

Dad got up, a silvery ribbon of cum hanging from the tip of his penis. He pulled up his pants and sat down. For the next thirty minutes, he and Lacy cuddled and laughed. Lupa didn't pay attention to what they said because she was back to thinking about Leia.

No, Lupa was not a murderer, but she wished she was...

* * *

In the dark of an autumn night, a door creaks slowly open, and a spill of light spreads across the floor. A shadow appears, long at first but growing shorter as it enters the rooms and crosses to the bed. Soft snoring and the hiss of wind in the eaves are the only sounds...save for heavy, ragged breathing.

Lemy stands over his older sister, Liby, the front of his underwear sticking out with his erection. In her sleep, the girl's brow pinches and she stirs, a mutter escaping her trembling lips. He rapes her with his eyes, panting faster as his passions rises. Finally, it becomes too much and he peels his dirty briefs from his body, his rigid penis popping out and pointing possessively at the sleeping girl. He slips under the blankets, and she wakes, her eyes opening slowly, her tired orbs muddled with confusion. When she sees his grinning face, she pales, and her heart begins to race.

"W-What are you doing?" she asks fearfully.

He doesn't speak; instead, he mounts her and pins her wrists above her head. Her eyes widen and her chest pounds in terror. "L-Lemy, s-stop."

Lemy pants even harder; he grins suggestively and thrusts against her, his throbbing penis rubbing between her thighs, its tip poking her through her panties.

"S-Stop," she begs, and begins to cry. "Please stop."

Lemy laughs maniacally and thrusts harder; she can feel his animal heat through the fabric of her underwear; it's sick, fevered, and terrible.

She cries harder. "Please stop."

In the next bed over, Lyra stirs and lifts her head. "What's going on?" she asks tiredly.

"Please, stop, Lemy!"

Lyra blinks and sits up, her eyes squinting in the darkness. She can just make out her brother on top of their sister, his body bent and his hands holding hers against the mattress. "What are you doing?" she asks.

"Having sex with Liby," Lemy pants.

Lyra blinks. "Lemy...Liby doesn't want to have sex." Liby had the mentality of a five-year-old, and unlike her sisters, she did not like sex.

"But Lemy horny."

"Well...come here."

Lemy looks over at her. She's sitting up in bed with the blankets pooled around her waist. In the dim half light, he can see the outline of her breasts through the fabric of her nightgown. She holds out her arms. "Come here," she repeats. Lemy looks down at Liby; she's sobbing, her eyes narrowed and filled with tears.

"Lemy…"

Lemy releases Liby's arms, climbs out of her bed, and crosses to Lyra, who smiles warmly at him. "Have sex with _me_," she says.

Lemy licks his chops.

Lyra pulls her nightgown over her head and throws it aside, freeing her pert breasts. She holds her arms out again, and Lemy steps into them: She pulls him into her lap and kisses the side of his face, which makes him giggle. Across the room, Liby sniffles.

"Liby doesn't like sex," Lyra explains patiently.

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't...but I do." She lays back and slips her legs out from under the covers. Lemy watches with wonder as she spreads them, baring her pink, glistening sex. He titters then mounts her, the tip of his penis poking between her folds. She takes him in her hand and guides him to her opening. "There...thrust."

Lemy throws his hips forward and plunges deep into his sister: Her walls ripple around him like wet satin, and his breath catches. She smiles up at him, her eyes sparkling in the faint illumination. He leans forward and begins to hump, his eyes rolling back into his head as his orgasm forms quickly in his depths.

"That's right," Lyra says and runs her fingers through his hair, "cum in me, Lemy."

Lemy lays his hands against her shoulders and pins her to the bed as his speed increases. He bows his head and bites his bottom lip as his seed shoots up from his loins and fills his penis.

Lyra thrusts her hips up to meet his; she's breathing heavy now, too, her body flushed and her cheeks burning. "Cum in me."

Lemy cries out as he swells then spurts, his molten load launching deep into Lyra's womb; she purrs when she feels it filling her and spreading its heat through her body.

Panting, Lemy falls limp against her chest, his lips inadvertently grazing her nipple. She strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. "Was that good?"

Lemy nods.

"Good," she whispers, "now go to sleep."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Lyra wraps her arms around his thin frame, and soon, they are both asleep.

But for Liby, sleep does not come easy.

And neither does peace of mind.

Leia stared at her battered face in her vanity mirror, rage and hatred burning in her chest. She opened her mouth and prodded her front tooth with her finger; it wiggled loosely in her gum, and the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth.

She took a deep, angry breath. How fucking _dare _Lacy put her hands on her like that...how _dare _she. Stupid meathead, airhead, fissure face jock. Oooooh, Leia hated that bitch so much it hurt.

That was okay, though, because Lacy had something coming to her. Leia wasn't exactly sure _what, _but she did know that it would be fatal. It might not be tomorrow, and it might not be next year, but it _would _happen, mark her words.

She got up, turned, and went to her bed. Lizy was on her own, a model of the Titanic half assembled in her lap. She looked up at her older sister and frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Leia said tightly and dropped onto her bed.

"I'm sorry Lacy…"

"Shut up and leave me alone," Leia snapped and turned toward the wall.

Lizy opened her mouth to speak again, but figured it would be best to do what Leia said. She focused on her model instead, her eyes filled with sadness. She really wished Leia was nicer; she very much wanted to be close to her the way she was close to Lyra and Liena. Nothing

would make her happier, not even the biggest, coolest model in the world.


	4. Leia

Leia rose promptly at 6:30 and stepped into her fuzzy pink slippers. Lizy was still asleep because she was a stupid four year old who didn't have to go to school, so Leia made as much noise as possible as she went into the hall, a satisfied grin carving across her face when she heard the little girl stir and mutter.

Because she had nine siblings, one mother, one father, and a bunch of dumb aunts, there was always a line for the bathroom. Some days it was only a few people long, and other days it was sixteen deep and reached all the way to the head of the stairs. Today, it was, in order: Lemy, Lynn, Lyra, Liena, Luan, Luna, Lacy (Leia's eyes narrowed to slits and hatred filled her), Dad, Lana, Mom, Liby. Mom was bent over her cell phone texting and Liby stared down at her bare feet, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Leia rolled her eyes and made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat as she fell in behind her older sister. She hated being close to Liby; she smelled funny. Crossing her arms, Leia impatiently tapped her foot.

The bathroom door opened and Lupa hobbled out, already dressed for the day in the same yellow and green striped skirt and ratty hoodie she wore yesterday. Yucky bitch; she rarely ever changed her clothes. Who _does _that?

Lemy scurried in and shut the door behind him; the line inched forward. Lupa ambled past, her crutches making a muffled _thud thud thud _on the carpeted floor. That was the most annoying sound _ever_, and Leia shot her older sister a dirty look. Lupa was staring straight ahead, but sensed Leia's gaze and turned her head; her brows angled down and her nose crinkled as though she'd glimpsed a particularly loathsome bug scuttling across the kitchen floor. Leia's blood boiled; she couldn't have stopped the comment even now leaving her mouth if she wanted to. "I see you're awake early," she said, "way to get a _leg _up."

Lupa's face darkened and Leia smirked smugly. The older girl opened her mouth, but closed it and continued on. Leia turned and watched her go, her eyes blazing with abhorrence.

The door opened again and Lemy came out. He passed Leia and spared her a glance that made her feel dirty. Just being in the same house with him made her feel dirty. She'd worked out her plan and she was definitely going to use him, otherwise she'd wish him dead.

One step forward as Lynn entered the bathroom and shut the door. Come on, I have to pee!

She shook her head, but froze when she saw her father lean forward and drape his arms over Lacy's shoulders from behind. She looked up at him with a loving smile, and he gently kissed the tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth, then full on the lips; Leia's rage grew when she caught a flash of his tongue flicking into her mouth.

That stupid, skuzzy, buck-tooth bitch beat her up yesterday, and Daddy was _kissing _her. Leia's fingers curled against her hands and her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. He should be kissing _me_.

Presently, he pulled away from Lacy's lips and drew her body against his; she threw her head back and grinned up at look of glowing happiness on her face made Leia dizzy with fury. In that moment, she decided that _she _was going to fuck her father too...and she was going to do it where Lacy could see. _Look at me, I'm Daddy's favorite now…_

She smiled wickedly at the thought of Lacy bursting into tears when she saw them.

One by one, each of her relatives used the bathroom and then went downstairs. Finally, it was her turn; by that point Lizy was standing behind her and shuffling restlessly from one foot to the other, her bladder _obviously _bursting with pee. Leia _would _take extra long, but she was running low on time and wanted breakfast, so she peed, hurriedly showered (being careful not to get her hair wet, it was already done), then dressed in a pink shirt, purple leggings, and a black half sweater vest over a white shirt. She opened the door, and Lizy was shaking violently, her head thrown back and her hands cupping her crotch. "Do you have to pee?" Leia asked in her fakest, sgariest voice.

Lizy gave a jerky nod.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please," Lizy said and started past, but Leia shot her arms out, her palms coming to rest against the frame in a Christ-like posture.

"Nope."

Lizy looked at her; her eyes were pooled with pleading. "Leia, I _really _have to go," she moaned.

"Say the magic words."

"I don't know them!"

Leia giggled. "Say 'I'm a blind, dumb, scummy bitch' and I'll let you pass."

"I don't want to say that."

"Then piss yourself."

Lizy bowed her head and sighed, her body still moving from side to side.

"Say it," Leia snarled.

"I-I'm a d-dumb, blind, scummy bitch."

Leia smiled smugly. "'I should have been aborted.''

"I-I should have been a-aborted."

Leia hummed. She still wasn't quite satisfied. An idea occurred to her, and she tilted forward, her eyes filling with madness and her lips turning up in a shark-like grimace. "Slap yourself."

Lizy blinked. "Wh-What?"

"Slap. Your. Self."

Lizy's throat bobbed and tears filled her eyes. "Leia, please…"

"Do it," Leia said tightly.

Seeing no other option, Lizy drew her hand back and slapped herself hard across the face, her open palm connecting with a sharp, meaty sound.

Leia laughed richly. "Alright," she said and pushed past her little sister, "go on."

Downstairs, all of her siblings (sans Lizy and Loan) were sitting at the dining room table with bowls of cereal in front of them. Her Mom and aunts sat around the living room like bags of trash, their dull, vacant eyes pointed at the TV. Sneering at them, Leia went into the kitchen, where three boxes of cereal stood in a line on the counter. She tried the first (Lucky Charms), but it was nearly empty; as was the second; the third, Raisin Bran, was half full. Leia sighed. She _hated _Raisin Bran, but she poured herself a bowl and topped it with milk anyway; you can't be perfect on an empty stomach.

She carried her bowl into the dining room and sat next to Lyra. She ate silently and slowly as her siblings bantered around her; vapid, inane chatter that made Leia wonder if any of them had a brain. When she was done, she took her dishes into the kitchen and sat them in the sink. She stepped into the dining room just as her father entered. Leia smiled and went to him. "Morning, Daddy!"

"Morning, honey," he said and patted her on the top of the head like a common lapdog. She bore down on her teeth and hugged him around his waist, making sure to press her face against his crotch in a seemingly innocent gesture.

He tensed, then patted her back. "You're affectionate this morning."

"I love you, Daddy," she said and turned. Lacy and Lupa were both looking at her; she stuck out her tongue. Lacy's brows furrowed angrily and one corner of Lupa's mouth twitched up in a sneer.

"I love you too, honey," he said, "now can you let me go? I'm already running late."

Leia released him and stepped aside so he could pass. She was aware of Lacy glaring at her, but she ignored the jock. I'm going to fuck Daddy so good he'll never touch you again, Trench Face. Enjoy your fingers.

In the living room, she grabbed her backpack and went outside; the sun was shining and birds chirped from trees blazing with autumn colors. Crows darted across the cobalt blue sky like specks, and a chilly harvest breeze blew from the west. She hefted her bag over one shoulder and hurried down the walkway, turning left. As she went, she plotted.

* * *

Lupa and Lacy walked side-by-side along the sidewalk, Lupa barely keeping up with her sister's angry stride; Lacy's eyes were like flecks of ice and her jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein throbbing visibly in her neck. With every forceful step she took, her Nike bag slapped against her back. Lupa's eyes trailed down to her hands, and yep, they were balled into fists.

She had been like this ever since Leia hugged their father in the dining room. Her face was no longer red and steam no longer (metaphorically) shot from her ears, but she was obviously pissed, and Lipa knew why.

Jealousy.

All of the girls who slept with Dad (Lacy, Lyra, and Liena) got a little jealous of the others from time to time; Lupa figured that was normal in a polyamorous relationship. Add to that Lacy's preexisting hatred for Leia, and you have a recipe for disaster. Leia wasn't having sex with Dad, of course (that wouldn't start until she was at least ten, and only if she 'wanted to'), but when your archenemy hugs the guy you like and sticks her tongue out at you, you're libel to get upset.

Yes, Lupa was aware that the guy was their father; she knew what a fucked up situation it was. She'd never been with him and never would be; so far, she felt no sexual desire whatsoever, but if she ever did, it would not be for a member of her family.

They paused at a side street so a school bus could amble past. Someone shouted "Freaks!' from one of the windows, and Lupa flipped them off. Lacy was too lost in her anger over Dad and Leia to notice.

"So what happened yesterday?" Lupa asked as they got back underway.

"That little bitch got what she had coming," Lacy said tightly.

Well, no shit. "What did she do?"

"Nothing," Lacy replied, "I don't want to talk about her."

Lupa made no further attempt to speak; she knew it would be useless. When Lacy was calm, she planned to sit her down and see if they couldn't come up with an idea for dealing with Leia. Not murder, of course, but something, anything; the little blonde was a total fucking psycho, and she was only getting worse. Maybe they could video tape her and show it to Dad? That might inspire him to get her help. Or maybe they could provoke her to do her thing in front of him, live and in the flesh.

Again, _something_.

When they reached the school fifteen minutes later, Lacy stormed into a crowd of kids, and Lupa lost her. Oh well. She'd see her in class, and maybe by the time lunch rolled around she would be in a better frame of mind.

At her locker, Lupa put in the combination and took out her history book. She was supposed to bring it home last night and read chapter eight, but she didn't. Oops. She'd pass the upcoming test anyway; history doesn't change from year to year...it's the same now as it was in sixth grade, and fifth grade, and fourth grade: People being cruel and heartless to each other. Violence, bigotry, and just plain meanness is woven through human nature like a damming red thread; it started when the first fish sprouted legs and walked upright and continued all through the ages. It would never cease and never fade until the last living human was exterminated like a weed. _That_, my friends, is the sum of history.

An image of Leia flashed across her mind. Her little sister, she realized then, embodied all the worst traits of humanity: She was greedy, selfish, vain, egotistical, sadistic, and lacked a fully formed conscious. Sigh. That's sad, isn't it?

How long before she hurt someone?

Lupa blinked. She wouldn't go _that _far, would she? Bitch or not, she was still only a little girl.

Yeah, well, for now, but little girls grow up - some become doctors, some become nurses, and others become Aileen Wuornos. If Leia's sociopathy was allowed to continue growing unabated, who knew where she would end up. Most serial killers start small, targeting animals before slowly working their way up to humans. If Lupa was right and Leia was a little Ted Bundy in the making (she was), she'd probably be killing people by the time she was in her early twenties.

Actually, by then Lupa would be a thousand miles away, so it wouldn't be _her _problem. For now, though, it was, and though kids rarely kill, sometimes they do, and Leia was the perfect candidate for doing some _Bad Seed _shit.

Sigh.

Kind of fucked up that she had to sit here and worry about her six-year-old sister going full Gacy.

_If you kill her first you won't _have _to worry._

Lupa blew a raspberry. Right. Great idea, then after that I can kill my math teacher so I won't fail.

Oh well. If the little bitch wanted to come, let her come. She probably thought Lupa was stupid and didn't suspect a thing, but she wasn't and she did...oh boy, did she ever.

Slamming the door, Lupa turned from the locker and hobbled to class, getting there just before the bell rang. She scanned the faces of her classmates, and found Lacy fuming in her usual spot, her teeth grinding and her hate-filled eyes pointed absently out the window. She didn't acknowledge Lupa as she passed, she didn't even seem to be on planet earth.

When she reached her desk, Lupa dropped into it and sat her crutches aside. The teacher hurried in, a cup of coffee in his hand and a harried expression on his face. Lupa drew a deep breath. Thus begins another funtastic day of learning…

Hooray.

* * *

One thing Lincoln liked about Thursdays was he got to leave work early: He hated his job with a burning intensity, and any moment he wasn't there was a good one, even if it meant going home and putting up with shit.

He punched out at three and went to his car, which was parked next to the Dumpster out back. That struck him as an analogy or something for his life, and he frowned as he slipped behind the wheel. Because his life stank? It wasn't _so _bad. The kids were a handful sometimes, but aren't all kids?

He flashed back to yesterday, him standing over his daughter and lashing her with a belt. A shiver went down his spine and he swallowed hard. Dark guilt clutched his chest. Jesus, really? A fucking _belt? _What was he thinking?

The answer was simple: He wasn't. He let his temper get the best of him and he crossed a line that should never, ever be crossed. Oh, she deserved to be punished for what she did - physically - but not like that.

He sighed. He was a shit fucking parent and a shit fucking person. He should take this fucking clunker up to one hundred and veer into oncoming traffic. The kids - and his sisters - would be a whole lot better off without him.

Now he was in a dark mood, and as he backed out of the parking space, he started to think about all of his children and their disabilities. He got frustrated with them, he felt overwhelmed by them...but what fucking right did he have? It was his fault they were that way; they didn't ask for this, he thrust it upon them. Sure, his sisters weren't blameless - it takes two to tango unless you're a rapist, and he was most certainly _not _a fucking rapist - but they were a pack of dumb bitches, he, on the other hand, had a little common sense. He knew, especially after Loan was born, that brother's sperm and sisters' eggs don't mix well, yet he kept on slinging his dick around the house and indulging his perverse appetite.

The way he did now with his daughters.

He sighed again, more deeply this time. One of them was going to catch pregnant one day, and then what? What would _that _kid look like? How many fucking arms and mental disorders would it have? Probably zero of the former and a dozen of the latter.

And as he held it in his arms, his eyes gazing into it's, he would realize something: He was a monster. Every single thing wrong with that baby, every challenge it faced and every terrible thing that happened to it would be on him...just like Loan's retardation,and Liby's, like Lyra's schizophrenia and Lizy's eye and hand. He did that to them.

Unconsciously, his hands tightened on the wheel and his foot pressed harder on the accelerator. Ahead, the traffic light turned red. Cross traffic was heavy...all he had to do was speed up just a _little _bit.

Instead, he came to a stop behind a minivan with one of those stick figure family stickers in the rear window. He saw a mama stick, a daddy stick, two kid sticks, and a dog stick. I bet _they're _not all fucked up like _my _family. I bet the mama and the daddy aren't brother and sister - they're normal and wholesome and happy, and their kids aren't suffering under the weight of being retarded, deformed, and having shit parents.

A mixture of jealousy, rage, and shame filled him. His kids deserved better...it should be _them _with a normal life. It should be _them _with happy, loving, not-fucking-related parents.

Who'd he have to blame for that?

You guessed it: Himself.

The light changed and he drove through the intersection, his heart aching and his eyes pooling with tears he didn't realize were coming. When he got home five minutes later, he pulled into the driveway and sat slumped behind the wheel, too depressed to move. If it were possible to curl up into a ball and wink out of existence, he would have done it. Instead, he got out and went inside, his shoulders bowed and his feet dragging. Luan, Luna, and Lana sat on the couch in front of _The Days of Our Lives_. Lola was probably out getting fucked by another man, Lynn was still at work, and Lori...who cared?

None of his sister-wives acknowledged him as he went through the living room and into the kitchen. At the fridge, he grabbed a beer, cracked it open, and took a long, grateful swallow. He went back into the living room and dropped into his armchair: On TV, a handsome man swept a big-breasted blonde into a lustful embrace while cheesy soap opera music played. "Dirk is _hot_," Luan said. Her two cohorts nodded and voiced their agreement. Lincoln took a sip and stole a furtive glance at them.

"I'd do him _hard," _Luna said.

Lana hummed. "I'd suck his soul out through his dick."

Lincoln's grip tightened on the can. They were doing this on purpose because they knew it pissed him off. Not necessarily that they were talking that way, but the fact that they did it intentionally just to get on his nerves. Little did they know, he saw Ronnie Anne every now and then, and when he said 'saw' he meant 'fucked.' Yeah, how you like that, Lola? Ronnie Anne let's me put it in her ass.

Luan giggled. "If only he were here right now." She gave Lincoln a sinister sidelong glance and ran her hands over her breasts.

"I'd let him bend me over the couch," Luna added with a sly grin. She thrusted her hips.

"I'd let him do things to me that I wouldn't let _any _other man do," Lana said.

Fire filled Lincoln's chest and he took another drink in a futile attempt to douse it. The girls shared an evil smile and a low whisper. Luan cleared her throat. "I bet he'd actually get me off."

Lincoln snapped; before he knew what he was doing, he twisted around and threw the half-full can directly at Luan's dumb face. It struck her in the chest, white, frothy brew splattering her and the others. They all screamed girlishly. "What the fuck, dude?" Luna demanded.

"Fuck you bitches," Lincoln said, "you want Dirk so bad, get the fuck out of my house and go get him."

"Fuck you," Luan cried, her face flushed with anger.

"This is our house too, Linc," Lana said tightly.

"It's in _my _name," Lincoln said, "so if you aren't happy here, pack your shit and leave." He got angrilly to his feet and stormed into the kitchen; his entire body was hot and he shook from head to toe. God, he hoped none of them followed, because if they did, he'd knock their head off.

Thankfully, they didn't. "Come on girls," he heard Luan say, "let's go to the spa."

"After I change my clothes," Luna replied, "I smell like Lincoln."

They all laughed cruelly, and Lincoln splayed his hands on the counter. God, I hate those fucking bitches. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.

"I say we _really _spoil ourselves," Lana added. "Who has the credit card?"

Oh, great, as if we weren't in enough debt. "I hope you fucking crash!" Lincoln called.

"Then we'll go out for drinks," Luna said, ignoring him. "And find hot dudes to fuck."

"Don't come home, then," Lincoln said.

The only reply was the sound of three cunts going up the took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the countertop so hard his hands ached. Hell..he was in hell. Every incestuous thrust, every load shooting deep into one of his sisters, came back to him, forming a montage of sin. _This is why you're where you are, Lincoln, _he could hear God or Jesus or Saint fucking Peter saying, _you sinned, now you're paying the price. Bitch._

Rage overcame him, and he swept the drying rack onto the floor; plates and glasses exploded, shards dancing away under the fridge and the kitchen table. He wished he never fucked any of those skanks. He wished he'd married Ronnie Anne or Cristina or even fucking Clyde, _anyone _but the whores he wound up with.

You know what, though? He deserved it.

Suddenly depressed again, he grabbed another beer from the fridge and went back into the living room just as Luna, Luan, and Lana disappeared through the front door. Lana threw a glance over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. "Don't wait up for us, Lincy."

Lincoln flipped her off.

She laughed mockingly and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with his demons. Scratch that, all of his demons weren't here right now, unless Lori or Leni's lazy asses were asleep upstairs. Was Loan here? He'd better check.

He got up and climbed the stairs. At the end of the hall he opened Loan's door and poked his head in; both beds were empty. Did Loan have a doctor's appointment today? He racked his brain as he went back downstairs but couldn't remember. Oh well, she wasn't here either way which meant he was totally and utterly alone...which didn't happen often. He intended to enjoy it.

In the living room, he dropped into his chair, took a sip of his beer, and pulled his phone out. He plugged Fhanfhictiondotcom into the search bar and set off to find a good Ace Savvy story to read. He found one, and just started to read when the front door opened. Oh, well, there goes _that_. He glanced over as Lemy and Leia came through the door, Lola behind them and chattering into her phone. She brushed rudely past the kids and hurried up the stairs. Lemy followed, no doubt itching to look at pictures of fire. Leia closed the door and smirked. "Hi, Daddy," she said; was it his imagination or was there a seductive hilt to her voice?

"Hi, sweetie," he said.

She hesitated, seeming to want to say something else, but instead she went up the stairs. He picked up his phone and went back to his story.

* * *

In her room, Leia closed the door and crossed to her closest. She pulled her vest off, unbuttoned her shirt, then slipped out of her skirt. In only her leggings, she rummaged through her clothes, humming as she considered and rejected a dozen different dresses. Finally, she settled on a silky pink nightgown that stopped just above her knees. Would Daddy find it sexy?

Eh, only one way to find out. She peeled her leggings off then slipped the gown over her head, being very careful not to mess up her hair. Next, she looked at herself in the mirror and practiced her bedroom eyes the way she once practiced her smile. In class today, she read a lot of stuff on her phone about sex and how to seduce a man, and she was confident she could do it.

Hm. Should she wear makeup? Probably. She sat at her vanity and carefully applied a touch of eyeliner and a kiss of pink lipgloss. She turned left, then right, then pronounced herself absolutely and stunningly beautiful.

What time was it? She checked her phone. Lacy didn't have practice today, so she would be home in fifteen or twenty minutes.

Perfect.

She was ready to fuck her father.

Getting up, she went to the door, opened it, and slipped into the hall, looking both ways; it stood empty. She crept down the stairs and paused halfway; she leaned over the banister, her pink painted toes digging into the soft carpet. Daddy sat in his chair scrolling through his phone. She smiled maliciously. Here I come, Daddy.

She descended the rest of the way and went to him. He was lost in what he was doing, and didn't notice her. She clasped her hands behind her back and ducked her shoulders left and right, left then right. He still wasn't paying attention, and she inwardly sighed. What was it with her parents and their damn cell phones? Mom was always on hers, Daddy was always on his...they're great but not so great that she could waste her life on one.

Idiots.

Ooooh, shiny object, let me look at it for twenty hours straight.

"Daddy?" she asked. When he looked up, she batted her eyelashes.

"Yeah?" he asked.

She twisted back and forth. "Can I sit with you?"

He blinked, and his eyes darted down to her legs, which made her grin. "Uh...sure," he said guardedly and sat his phone aside. Leia smiled broadly and crawled into his lap. His big, strong hands fluttered to her hips and pulled her close. She threw her arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes. She saw uncertainty there...and shame.

This was going to be easier than she thought.

Hahahahaha!

"Hi," she said, half-lidding her eyes.

"H-Hi," he responded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "How was your day?"

She shrugged. "It was alright." She leaned close; his breathing was ragged, hot against her face. "But it's _wonderful _now."

The corners of his mouth twitched up in a nervous smile. "Yes it is."

For a moment they looked at each other, Leia unsure how to proceed. She didn't have the patience to spend all day seducing him, but you have to grease the way, don't you?

Something poked her in the butt, and she frowned slightly. What-? She grinned when she realized what it was: He was hard, which meant he wanted her. Perfect.

"Daddy?" she asked and wiggled against him. His face turned bright red and he licked his lips. "What's that?"

He swallowed, his throat making a clicking sound. "What's what?"

She grinned and swiveled her hips; her butt ground against his rapidly inflating bulge. "That," she asked lowly.

"Nothing," he said.

She hummed. "I like it." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. His body tensed and his fingers dug into her hips. She grinned and flicked her tongue out, the tip dancing across his lower lip, caressing him, tasting him.

He shuddered and held her away at arm's length; his eyes were pooled with something like fear. "Leia," he said.

"But Daddy," she pouted.

"You're far too young for this," he said. "Plus I-I don't think I should do this with my daughters anymore. It's wrong."

Leia smirked. That's what his lips said, but his dick said something else.

_You're weak_, she thought disgustedly. He thought he could resist, ha! He could try, but he wouldn't last.

She reached out and touched his face. "But, Daddy," she repeated, "I _really _want it." She shifted again, and she could feel him growing harder.

"No," he said. He wasn't telling her, he was _begging _her.

She pushed his hands away and pulled the gown over her head, the soft fabric scraping against her creamy flesh. Her father's breath caught as she tossed it aside and flashed a provocative smile. She was entirely naked now, her flat chest and tiny nipples bared for her father's hungry eyes; his bulge rubbed between her folds, and she felt a slight stirring in the pit of her stomach. Hm, _that _was new.

Daddy closed his eyes and took a deep, shivery breath through trembling lips. She shifted once more and tilted her head forward. "I love you, Daddy," she said. "With my heart...and my mind..._and _my body." She welded her lips to his, and he opened them to allow her tongue ingress. For a moment he didn't move, then he kissed her back, his fingers threading through her hair and his hips unconcouslly rocking up, his bulge sliding between her lower lips. His tongue wrapped around hers, and his hands slowly trailed down the side of her face, the sides of her neck, her chest, the warmth of his touch making her flesh tingle. This was actually kind of nice.

His thumbs massaged her nipples, and they began to stiffen as though she were cold...but she wasn't; she was hot, her flesh burning with passion and her core blazing like the center of the sun. She kissed him more deeply and shifted against his erection, her eyes rolling back in her head and her heart slamming so hard it echoed through the chambers of her skull. Daddy's tongue pushed far into her mouth and his fingers moved over her skin, stoking the fire in her loins.

She pulled away from him and gazed into his hazy eyes; his lips were slightly parted and sheened with a mixture of her lip gloss and their mingled saliva. "D-Daddy," she said, surprised at the hitch in her voice. "I want it."

His chest rose and fell as he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. Leia watched intently as he pulled his zipper down, reached in, and brought it out: Her eyes widened. It was pink, thick, and beautiful. She reached for it, but hesitated.

"Go on," he said breathlessly, "touch it."

She tentatively wrapped her fingers around it; the flesh was soft and silky smooth. It was also hot...so, so hot.

A grin spread across her face and she stroked up, then down, slowly. Daddy threw his head back and groaned. She moved her fingers along his length; a bead of clear fluid formed at his tip and dribbled down. It, too, was hot, and sticky. She smeared it around and giggled at the way he twitched; he reminded her of a dying bug skewered on the blade of a knife, its body trembling as death stole over it. Spearing bugs on sharp things had long been one of her favorite hobbies, so she knew what she was talking about.

She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the mantle. Lacy should be here any time. She turned back to her father and lifted up; understanding, he pulled his pants and underwear down. She shifted positions, and his tip pressed against her. "Here," he panted and took himself in his hand. He guided himself to her opening and her breath hitched. She started to push herself down, but winced at the sensation of his head spreading her apart.

"Easy," he said, "don't hurt yourself."

She tossed her head back and put her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips and slowly, gently, pulled her down. His member pried her lips apart and slipped past her entrance; it strained painfully against her walls and she moaned. Her hips jerked down and she bit her bottom lip as tears of pain welled in her eyes. "Slow," Daddy panted, "go slow."

A very big part of her wanted to stop, go upstairs, and curl up in bed until the agony subsided, but a much, much bigger part of her wanted to continue, wanted Lacy to see. Decided, she lifted her body up, his length feeling as though it were gutting her and dragging her walls out, then sank down with a long moan.

"Like that," Daddy trembled.

She rose up, then came down again, her hips flush against his and his tip painfully spearing her cervix. He shook and wrapped his arms around her, shoving his lips to hers and kissing her greedily. She kissed him back as she forced herself into a slow but steady rhythm. His fingers crawled up and down her back, from her flexing shoulder blades to the cleft of her butt. Her body shivered as she increased her speed. The pain had faded and each downward stroke, each brush of his penis along her walls, sent embers of pleasure into the center of her stomach.

The kiss broke and she rested her forehead against his, their hot breaths mingling as she went faster still. "You f-feel so g-good, Daddy," she said.

"So do you," he moaned.

Leia bore down on her bottom lip as a strange sensation flooded her stomach. "It feels like something's coming," she gasped.

"Let it come," Daddy whispered, "let it come, sweetie."

Crackling heat exploded in her stomach and she cried out. Daddy held her tightly, and his penis expanded in her, making her wince. She turned her head toward the front door, and Lacy was there, her mouth stupidly agape and her eyes as big as dinner plates. Lupa stood next to her, her feeatures twisted in disgust.

Leia locked eyes with Lacy and smirked as her father's seed blasted into her. Her eyelids fluttered and she let out a long, shaky "Oooooooh…"

Daddy's hips rocked forward and he sputtered. "I-I love you, Leia."

Looking her sister dead in the eyes, Leia smiled. "I love you too, Daddy."

Lacy's face turned scarlet and her jaw set. She shook slightly, and Leia snuggled her head into the crook of her father's neck.

Tears filled the older girl's eyes; she pushed rudely past Lupa and stormed up the stairs, her feet pounding on the treads. Leia craned her neck to watch her go, then looked at Lupa. Lupa sneered and shook her head slowly.

"I'm all sticky now," Leia giggled.

"Me too," Daddy laughed.

She touched his face and looked into his eyes. "Can we take a bubble bath together?"

Daddy smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "You got it."

Lupa rolled her eyes and started up the stairs.

_I hope you fall, bitch, _Leia thought as she watched her, _and I hope you die._


	5. Growing Pains

Two weeks...two weeks since she walked through the front door and saw her father making love to her little sister, two weeks since she began to cling to him and follow him around like a puppy, two weeks that she had to endure the sounds of them in the next room over at night, her father grunting and Leia moaning in pleasure. "Faster, Daddy", she'd scream, "faster." The walls were paper thin and she had no choice but to lie there and listen, hatred festering in her heart like cancer and silent tears sliding down her freckled cheeks. She tried putting her pillow over her head, but it only muffled the noise; it was still there, mocking her.

Since that hateful day, her father hadn't touched her, and every time she tried to get him alone, Leia was there to steal him away, dragging him by the hand here and there like a dog...and he allowed himself to be led. That's what hurt the most; he could make time for her, but he didn't. It was Leia, Leia, Leia; he was like a little boy with a shiny new toy. He couldn't stop looking at her, touching her. At dinner, she sat in his lap and he played with her hair, running it through his fingers and lifting it to his nose. In the evening, she cuddled with him in his chair. They kissed, held hands, and giggled together like schoolgirls.

And every once in a while, she would catch Leia looking at her with derisive eyes and a condescending smile. _Look at me, _she seemed to say, _I'm Daddy's little girl now. _It made Lacy so angry she shook. Seeing them together was too much, and eventually she stopped coming out of her room except when she absolutely had to; she laid on her side and hugged herself, aching for her father's touch the way a flower aches for life giving sunlight. She wanted him to kiss her and play with _her _hair so desperately that she could hardly breathe, and just knowing that _Leia _was getting the attention that _she _craved pushed her close to exploding. It would be bad enough if it was Lyra or Liena, but it was _Leia. _

The kicker? Leia didn't love Dad; she was only doing this to get at _her_. She could feel it in her bones.

God, she wanted to whip the little bitch's ass, but she held her fists back because if she didn't, Dad would be angry with her. She could take another beating, but she could _not _take him forsaking her entirely for that stupid little slut.

On the morning of November 17, Lacy woke in a bar of golden autumn sunshine, her eyes fluttering open and her muddled mind slowly clearing; the fuzzy warmth of sleep departed, and cold depression flooded in. She drew a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, hoping against hope that she would fall back asleep, thus delaying the inevitable. She didn't, though. Her heart throbbed sickly and her flesh burned with constipated desire; she hadn't touched herself, and she was so horny she could barely think straight. Not that she was a sex addict like Liena, she wasn't, but it had been so long since she felt her father's hands on her body, since she had tasted his lps, since she'd felt the sting of him penetrating her. So, so, so long.

Sighing, she rolled onto her side, and the tang of cigarette smoke reached her nostrils. Her nose crinkled and she creaked her eyes open; Lupa sat up in her bed, facing forward and taking a drag, "You have five minutes," Lupa said without turning.

Lacy groaned. She was waking up more now, and deep in her stomach she felt the same nausea she'd been feeling for the past week, a churning, slimy sensation that, she knew, would lead to her puking, as it had every morning for the past seven days. Nerves, she thought, though she couldn't understand why it faded in the afternoon and didn't come back until the next morning.

"You really need to get over it," Lupa said and tapped her cigarette against the edge of her ashtray. "You're driving yourself crazy and that's just what Leia wants."

"I know," Lacy moaned, "but…" she hesitated. She wasn't usually open with her emotions, but right now she needed to be. "It hurts. It hurts so bad," Tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them closed.

Lupa hummed. "How's it any different than sharing him with Lyra and Liena?"

"Because they're not Leia and they don't hog him on purpose," she said sullenly. Wasn't it obvious?

Lupa didn't reply for a moment. "Well...you still need to get over it. You've been moping around for two weeks. It's not healthy."

Yeah, well, she didn't care what was healthy and what wasn't. The only thing she cared about was what that little demon bitch was doing with Dad; his tongue in her mouth, his dick inside of her, wet with her disgusting slime...it was enough to drive her crazy. Oh, she didn't _want _to think about it, but she couldn't think of anything _else_.

Lupa took another drag, threw her head back, and blew a tight plume of bluish smoke. "I don't like seeing you like this," she said, an earnesty in her voice that surprised Lacy. "Plus...I need your help. With Leia."

Several times over the past two weeks, Lupa had approached her about 'taking Leia down,' but she was in no frame of mind to be of any use. Being around Leia, talking about her, looking at her were all things that she wanted _not _to do: If she were forced to endure the little cunt's presence, she'd probably snap and kill her.

Oh, but taking her down sounded _sooo_ g -

Her stomach clenched, and hot bile coated the back of her throat. Eyes widening, she leapt out of bed and rushed into the hall, her hand clamping against her mouth. God, she hoped there wasn't a line; she couldn't hold it.

Thankfully there wasn't; she slammed through the bathroom door, dropped to her knees, and threw up; puke splattered the bowl, and droplets of toilet water splashed her face. The smell washed over her, and she puked again, her vision blurring and her head aching. Her fingers gripped the slick, piss encrusted rim and she panted for breath. Please, God, no more.

But God, if He existed, had better things to do than listen to the prayer of Lacy Loud: Her stomach turned, and she dry heaved painfully, a long ribbon of bitter spit the only thing she had to give. Sudden and inexplicable tears burst from her, and she bowed her head as she began to cry.

Suddenly, someone was kneeling next to her, their hand rubbing a comforting circle between her shoulder blades. "Honey, what's wrong?" her mother asked, her voice soft with concern.

Lacy fought to catch her breath. When she was sure she wasn't going to puke again, she sniffed. "I'm sick." she moaned, and cried even harder. Her father didn't love her anymore, he loved Leia instead; her stomach hurt; she could barely sleep, hardly eat, she was failing her classes and they were going to kick her off her teams but she didn't care...she should but she didn't. She just wanted her father. "I'm sick every morning."

Mom's hand froze. "Every morning?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lacy said and sniffed again.

"Sick how?"

Lacy thought for a moment. "My stomach. It's all nauseous and it makes me puke. I think it's...it's nerves."

For a moment Mom didn't move, then with trembling hands she reached over, opened the cabinet beneath the sink, and rummaged around. Lacy expected her to bring out a bottle of Pepto or something, but when she drew back, she was holding something else.

A pregnancy test.

"Here," she said and handed it to her, "I want you to take this."

Lacy blinked, suddenly afraid. "W-Why?"

"Just do it," Mom said tightly.

Lacy plucked the device from her mother's hands and looked at it; she was trembling all over like a frightened dog. Did Mom think she was pregnant? No, she couldn't be.

"H-How do I d-do it?"

"Sit on the toilet and pee on it."

Lacy blinked. Pee on it?

"O-Okay."

She and her mother both got to their feet, Mom folding her arms across her chest and staring down at her with something like disquiet. Lacy glanced at the test then up at her mother. "Go on," Mom said and nodded toward the toilet.

Lacy swallowed nervously. "Can I have some priv -?"

"Do it," Mom said.

Blushing, Lacy yanked her shorts down to her knees, baring her girlhood. She sat on the toilet, the seat painfully cold against the warm flesh of her butt, and looked to her mother for guidance. "Hold it between your legs and pee on it."

Lacy looked at the test again, and her stomach turned. She dipped it between her legs and started to pee; it splashed her fingers, the test, and her legs. Gross. She stared down at her feet until she was done.

"Now sit it on the counter."

Lacy sat the test on the sinktop; it shook in her hand. She looked up at her mother. "You d-don't really think…?"

"You might be," Mom said tightly.

Fear went through her like icy water. She couldn't have a baby, s-she didn't know anything _about _babies!

Mom tapped her foot impatiently and chewed her bottom lip, which was something she only did when she was angry and trying to keep it together. Liena appeared in the doorway and started to speak, but Mom held her hand up, "Not right now. Go away."

A look of hurt crossed the girl's face, but she did as she was told, turning and scurrying back into her bedroom. Lacy swallowed around a lump in her throat and folded her hands between her legs. Her heart was racing and she felt sick again, but she didn't think she was going to puke.

She sensed someone looking at her, and glanced up to see Lupa in the doorway, her brows angled curiously down and her white hair stilly messy from sleeping. She didn't speak, only watched.

Mom leaned forward and stared down at the test; Lacy glanced hopefully at her. It's negative, right? It _has _to be negative.

From the way Mom's face fell, though, she knew that it _wasn't_.

"Goddamn it," Mom muttered under her breath. A moment passed. Then she flashed, grabbed the test, and slammed it against the counter as hard as she could. It shattered in a crunch of breaking plastic, and Lacy jumped, her heart rocketing into her chest. Mom's nostrils flared and her eyes shimmered with rage. "_Goddamn it! Lincoln!" _She spun, and Lupa fell back a step. Lacy gaped into thin air. She was pregnant…

She bowed her head and began to weep.

Mom grabbed the doorframe in both hands and leaned into the hall. "_LINCOLN!"_

"What?" he called from the end of the hall.

"_COME HERE!"_

Lacy's tears fell faster and she bit her lower lip to keep from making pitiful noises. Lincoln appeared at the door, a questioning expression on his face. "What?"

Lynn jabbed a finger at Lacy, and the girl cringed. "You got our daughter _pregnant!" _The last word practically oozed venom. She shot her arms out and shoved Lincoln back; he nearly fell but caught himself on the doorframe.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"_YOU GOT OUR DAUGHTER PREGNANT, YOU BASTARD!" _She shoved him again.

Lincoln's face paled, and he threw a stricken glance at Lacy, who wept even harder. Lynn growled, pulled back her hand, and slapped Lincoln's shoulder. "You fucking piece of shit! _SHE'S ONLY TWELVE!" _Lynn slapped him again and again. She drew her hand back, but Lincoln snapped and shoved her back against the counter.

"Keep your hands off me, bitch," he snarled.

"You fucking piece of shit! Goddamn son of a bitch! Motherfucker." She launched herself at him, but he caught her by the wrists and held her back.

"Stop," Lacy sobbed.

"Fuck you, Lincoln, fuck you!" Lynn managed to snake one hand out of his grasp and slapped him hard across the face. His head whipped to one side...then back again, his teeth clenched and his eyes blazing. Like a shot, he grabbed her throat in both hands and pushed her back against the counter. Lynn let out a strangled cry and Lincoln bent her backwards over the sink top.

"_DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME, BITCH!" _He backhanded her, and she moaned.

"_STOP!" _Lacy screamed, her hands going to her head. "_PLEASE, STOP!"_

Lynn threw a punch that grazed Lincoln's jaw. He clamped down on his teeth and squeezed tighter. Lynn's face was turning purple and her eyes were bugging out of her head. In a final desperate attempt at escape, she drove her knee into his crotch. He let out a pained _humph _and stumbled back, his hands releasing. Lynn stayed where she was for a moment, gasping greedily for breath.

"Stop!" Lupa cried. Luna, Luan, Lola, Lana, Lyra, Liena, and Lori stood around the door, watching, none of them making any attempt to intervene. Lincoln cradled his wounded package; he was bent at the waist and gasping.

"You bastard," Lynn said, her voice low and savage, "our twelve year old daughter. What now? _WHAT FUCKING NOW?"_

"_DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT IT!" _Lincoln roared. "_GO KICK A BALL AND PRETEND YOU DON'T HAVE A DAUGHTER, WE ALL KNOW YOU DIDN'T WANT HER!"_

Lacy pressed her hands to her face and sobbed bitterly.

"You lying prick," Lynn growled, "I love my daughter. You just wanna fuck her. That's all she is to you, a hole to stick your dick in. That's what they _all _are to you."

"You better shut your fucking mouth, Lynn." Lincoln said. "Go somewhere and let me take care of _my _daughter."

Lynn laughed harshly. "You sure took care of her, alright." She threw her hips forward to simulate humping. "Father of the year!"

Lincoln trembled with rage.

Lacy moaned, and Liena and Lupa came into the bathroom, the former kneeling next to her and laying her hand on her knee and the latter standing on her other side. Liena whispered soft words of encouragement to her sister while Lupa glared at her father and her aunt; normally apathetic, she was now angry, angry because Dad got Lacy pregnant, angry because he and Lynn were arguing, again, angry because of Leia...and deep down, angry about her fucking useless legs and her fucked up life.

"You guys, like, shouldn't be fighting," Leni said from the doorway, "this is a happy time. Lacy's going to be a mommy. And Lincy's going to be a daddy."

Lynn chuckled mirthlessly. "And a grandfather _and _a great-uncle."

Lincoln took a deep, shuddery breath. "Just go," he said, the fight running out of his voice. He went to the toilet and kneeled down in front of Lacy. She turned her big, tearful eyes to him and he laid his hand on her thigh. "How do you feel, baby?" he asked.

Shaking her head, Lynn pushed through the crowd and left the bathroom, stopping to punch the wall; it cracked, plaster chipping off and littering the carpet.

"I don't know," Lacy said. She hugged herself and bent forward. Lincoln sighed and reached up to stroke her hair, the heel of his palm trailing across her cheek. She leaned into his touch and shivered; her mind whirled like a dark tempest, and she was cold...so cold. She couldn't be a mother...she-she couldn't.

Getting to his feet, Lincoln took her hand. "Come on," he said gently, "let's go lie down."

Lacy nodded and stood, reaching down with one hand to pull her shorts up. Slipping his arm around her shoulder, Lincoln led her through the crowd, which parted for them the way the Red Sea parted for Moses, and then into her room. A dozen set of eyes watched them go; some filled with confusion, some with concern...and one with hatred.

"Well," Lori sighed, "that was interesting."

The group dispersed, leaving only Leia behind, her teeth clenched and her hands balled into fists. She did this on purpose...she let herself get pregnant so Daddy would spend more time with her. Oh, that was _low_.

_Enjoy that baby while you have it, _Leia thought, _because I'm going to kill it._

* * *

Lyra Loud started downstairs, but veered off and went into her room instead. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her face in her upturned palms. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lacy was pregnant. Wow.

Her eyelids started to droop.

Part of her wanted to be excited because her sister was going to have a baby, but another part wanted to be sad because Lacy was so young. She had her whole life ahead of her, she had hopes and dreams and now, she was going to be saddled with a baby.

Putting it that way (saddled) might sound terrible, but it was true. She wouldn't be able to play sports or do anything a normal twelve-year-old did because she'd have a baby to worry about. It was kind of sad. It…

She pitched forward and nearly fell, but caught herself, her heart jerking. She sighed with frustration and threw her head back. She was _soooo_ groggy...much groggier than she was the last time she was on this medication. Yeah, it usually took awhile to get readjusted, but it had been over two weeks and she could still hardly stay awake. She nodded off at her desk in school, on the toilet, at the dinner table, and sometimes she got so light-headed she could barely stand up. It was terrible. She briefly considered not taking today's dose, but decided against it. She would feel better, but skipping doses was like playing with fire; how many times had she done that in the past only to wind up skipping the next, then the next too, then...hello, psych ward!

Lyra sighed and got heavily to her feet. She'd just have to suffer; it was better to be groggy and tired than to be all delusional and shit. God, if she went off the deep end and hurt one of her family members, she didn't know _what _she'd do.

This was her curse, fighting constantly to keep her demons deep, deep inside, away from her loved ones. Her will (and her pill) was the only thing standing between them and her family, and though she fought with her siblings from time to time, she loved them, and her Dad, and her Mom and her aunts, and she would do whatever it took to protect them from the monsters in her mind.

She just wished it wasn't so hard; she'd rather almost any affliction than perpetual grogginess. Headaches, nausea...anything than existing in a constant twilight stupor.

Downstairs, all of her siblings except for Lacy and Loan, were at the dining room table. Lemy looked up and grinned, and she smiled back. He had been coming to her every night since he tried to have sex with Liby, and Lyra had come to thoroughly enjoy being with him. There was the sex (she very much liked sex), but also the cuddling afterward, Lemy couldn't carry a conversation so they didn't talk much, but they did snuggle, and that intimacy was better than all the idle pillow talk in the world. She ran her fingers through his hair as she passed and his grin widened. Someone made a disgusted _tsk _sound, and she looked up to see Leia glaring at her. Lyra's step faltered and she frowned. She didn't understand her little sister, she really didn't.

"Keep it moving, Skitz," Leia said sourly.

Lyra sighed and shook her head. Some people just liked being mean. Look around and you'll see them everywhere; elementary school bullies, racists, terrorists, wife beaters. Why they exist and why they feel the need to be that way was beyond Lyra, but she really wished she wasn't like that and she _really _hoped it was only a phase.

She was at the kitchen counter now. Two cereal boxes stood side by side. She shook the first, but it was almost empty. She moved onto the next and it was only slightly fuller. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, she poured some in, added milk, then carried it into the dining room, taking the open seat next to Lemy. He leaned toward her, and she kissed his forehead. "Morning," she said.

"Morning."

"How'd you sleep?" she asked and spooned some Raisin Bran into her mouth.

Lemy grunted.

She laughed. "Good." Most nights he fell asleep in her arms and stayed there until morning. Sometimes, though, he woke up and went back to his room. She liked waking up with him, and she was at the point where she was used to it.

"You sleep?"

"I slept good," she said, "I didn't want to get up this morning."

Across the table, Liby stirred her cereal with her spoon. Since Lemy tried to have sex with her, she had been a mess of nerves, sleeping poorly, constantly looking over her shoulder, and shaking like a small, frightened animal when he was around. Lyra took her aside and tired to explain that Lemy didn't want to hurt her, but she didn't understand, and Lyra guessed she couldn't blame her. It must have been traumatic for her, waking up to Lemy on top of her like that. She just wished she could grasp what was going on so that she wouldn't be so afraid; Lyra hated seeing her like that.

When breakfast was over, Lyra took hers and Lemy's dishes into the kitchen and sat them in the sink. She kissed her brother on the cheek, grabbed her backpack, and went out the door. She considered catching a ride with Liby and Aunt Luan so she wouldn't have to walk, but decided against it. She was groggy still but she liked walking, the sun and the breeze against her flesh and the smell of burning leaves tantalizing her nostrils. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly; she _loved _fall.

She started toward school with a long, open-mouthed yawn.

* * *

Lincoln wrapped his arms around Lacy's waist and laced his hands over her stomach, his face burying into her hair. They were spooning in her bed, Lacy's legs drawn up and her eyes staring sightlessly at Lupa's half of the room. Lincoln kissed the back of her neck and took a deep breath, her warm scent filling his nose.

They had been here for two hours, dazing and drifting in and out of fitful sleep. The whole time she was awake, Lacy's mind worked furiously. She had recovered from the initial shock of finding out she was pregnant, and the more she pondered her situation...the more excited she became. She was going to have a baby...her father's baby. She envisioned a cute little boy with a cowlick and chipped teeth, just like his daddy, and she smiled faintly.

She couldn't lie, the thought had crossed her mind that now he would give her more attention. She was carrying their child, after all.

Being pregnant, she decided now, wasn't so bad after all. She snuggled closer to her father, her butt raking across his crotch. His breath caught and she grinned to herself. He unlaced his hands and rubbed a slow, gentle circle against her stomach. "I love you," she said.

Dad didn't immediately respond. "I love you too," he said. She turned in his arms and gazed deeply into his eyes. He forced a tight smile, and her heart swelled. She laid her hand on the side of his face and caressed his cheek. He was so beautiful...so perfect...she scooted closer and pressed her lips against his. She had him now, and she wouldn't let him go.

"I'm _in _love with you," she said lowly, her breath mingling with his. She kissed him, her tongue darting into his mouth and caressing his. He didn't move for a moment, then he kissed her back and threaded his fingers through her hair. Her hand drifted down his rippling chest to his crotch; she cupped his growing bulge in her hand and squeezed. He moaned, and she shifted onto him, her knees planting into the mattress and caging his legs. She stared down into his big brown eyes and smiled happily.

His hands went to her hips, and she rocked against him. "I want to marry you," she said as she unbuttoned his jeans. He watched her with slack-jawed amazement. She giggled at him and pulled the tab of his zipper down. His musky smell found her nose, and she instantly dampened. She bent and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, their eyes locking and holding. "I want to have your baby…" she hooked her fingers into his underwear and pulled them down; he sprang out and her heart began to race. She lifted up, slipped out of her shorts, and tossed them away. Lust, and love, clouded her mind, and her body ran hot. "I want to have all your babies."

She pulled her shirt off and threw it away; she was entirely naked now, bared and vulnerable before the man she loved. She moved her hips, his tip grazing against her folds, and jerked down when she felt him at her entrance. He filled her, and they both gasped.

"I love you," she said. Her thoughts, her emotions, spilled from her in wave as he cupped her breasts, as she established a slow, steady pace. 'I want to be your only, Daddy. I love you. T-They don't."

She threw her head back and rocked slowly against him; his thumbs kneaded her nipples and she bowed her head. "I want to be your wife. I want to be with you forever." She pinned his shoulders to the bed and went faster, her eyes squeezing closed as the friction of his body against hers became too much to handle. "Please love me, Daddy; please love me."

"I love you," he said, and her orgasm hit her; her walls clamped around him and she froze, a shiver running through her lithe frame. Her father grew then released into her, his burning load shooting into deep and secret places, places that she had only shared with him...places that she would _only _share with him.

She rolled off of him, his seed spilling from between her legs, and curled up next to him. He put his arms around her and kissed her neck. "I love you, Lacy," he said.

"I love you too," she said around a smile. She snuggled closer to his warmth and closed her eyes. Soon, she was asleep.

Alone, Lincoln held his daughter and stared into space, his mind a dark tempest and his heart aching. He pressed his hand against her stomach as if to commune with the life growing in her womb and drew a deep sigh. He tried to imagine what his and Lacy's son or daughter would look like...what would be wrong with it...and he shuddered.

He loved his children, but he couldn't help thinking that he made a grave mistake by having them. They were sick, suffering, and disfigured. He loved them...but it would have been better for them if they'd never been born.

And like a dog returning to its own vomit, here he was making the same mistake again, breathing life into malformed flesh, creating something inherently broken, forcing something into the world that had no business being in the world...having a baby that would be twisted, handicapped, mentally ill, or retarded. He sighed deeply.

He really _was _a monster.

A cold wind blew through his soul and he dug his fingers into Lacy's stomach as if to claw the baby from her womb...as if to spare it the horror that would be its life. She muttered sleepily and stirred. "...ove you, Daddy," she murmured.

"I love you too," he said, to both her and their child. "I love you too."

* * *

Leia sat at a long desk in front of a window and stared down at the blank page before her. A purple crayon was clutched tightly in one hand and her eyes smoldered with hatred. On her right, a little black boy hummed a wordless tune as he drew a row of smiling stick figures; on her left, a little girl with a ponytail did much the same. Leia stole a glance at her paper: There were three and they were labeled...MOMMY, DADDY, ME. They wore big U-shaped smiles and held hands. Leia sneered in contempt and turned back to her own paper. She rested her forearm on the table and started to draw. First came her mother, her cellphone in her hand and her eyes glued to the screen. Next was Leia; she took great pains to render a perfect depiction of herself. Finally, she drew Daddy. He held her hand and smiled.

She liked holding hands with her father, especially because it made Lacy jealous. It also made her stay in her room, out of Leia's way, which was nice: It was almost like she was dead. She still had to suffer the ugly bitch's face at dinnertime, though, and occasionally they met in the hall, Lacy giving her dirty looks and Leia giving them right back. They largely left each other alone, though...largely: Just the other day Leia used her mouth to make Daddy cum, held it in her mouth, then snuck into Lacy's room and spit it on her pillow. Yesterday, after she and Daddy finished, she dipped her fingers between her lips, collected as much of their mingled fluids as possible, and wiped it on Lacy's door knob...then everyone else's out of spite.

Presently she grinned at the memory. A flash of movement caught her attention and she looked up to see Mrs. Morris standing over her. "I'm done, Mrs. Morris," she said.

Mrs. Morris bent over and frowned. "Where's the rest of your family? You have a lot of brothers and sisters, don't you?"

"Oh, they're not important," Leia said easily.

"That's not very nice. Of course they're important. They're your family."

Leia sighed. Rather than engage in a petty argument with her teacher, she decided to suck it up and draw the others, even though she didn't want to. She started with Lulu then ended with Lacy; squiggly stink lines surrounded her, and her face was drawn like an upside down Pac Man...because of her ugly, smelly cleft. She sat her crayon aside and studied her other siblings: Lyra's eyes were shifty to simulate her paranoia; Lupa's legs were corkscrew spirals; Loan was drooling; and Lemy was holding a lit match and looking at it the way Daddy looked at her when she was riding him.

The way he looked at Lacy when he found out she was pregnant.

Anger flared in Leia's chest, and she took a deep, calming breath. She couldn't believe that Lacy would get pregnant on purpose just to steal Daddy back. How screwed up is that? Unfortunately, Leia was too young to get pregnant hersel, or else she would. How do you like it, bitch? That would be the best payback ever. She glanced down at her stomach and glared as if at her underformed ovaries.

That was okay, though; Lacy and her precious little baby had something coming to them. She had to decide what approach she wanted to take, though. Her original plan (the one that required Lemy) still appealed to her, but after this, she was thinking some a little more...hands on.

"That's very good, Leia," Mrs. Morris said, startling her.

I know, Leia thought. Out loud, however, she said, "Thank you."

The teacher went away, and Leia sat back in her chair. Until she took care of that bitch, she'd have to compete with her for Daddy's attention, which was not fair. She shouldn't have to compete...or share.

Daddy should be hers.

And when Lacy was dead, he would be…


	6. Family Values

Days dragged into weeks, and an uneasy calm held sway. None of Lincoln's sisters were speaking to him, the silent treatment so total that they didn't even make fun of him anymore: No comments about being with other men, no sidelong glances, no sneers or remarks in his direction. Hell, they wouldn't even _look _at him.

And it was driving him crazy.

So many times over the years he'd wished they'd shut their fucking mouths and leave him alone, but now that he finally had it, he couldn't take it. Even Leni was ignoring him; her disposition was too kind for her to have made that decision alone...Lori must have gotten to her. Or maybe Lynn.

Lynn was the only one who acknowledged him; she would watch him with narrowed, hateful eyes at dinner. He had taken to sleeping in Lacy's bed each night, and Lynn made it a habit to come in and kiss their daughter on the forehead and stroke her hair even though she'd never done so in the past. Fucking bitch. She never wanted Lacy. The first thing she said when she found out she was pregnant was "I hope this doesn't affect my sports career." Oh, but it did, and as the months passed and she became unable to play even a game of catch in the backyard, she grew frustrated. She told him once she wished he pulled out. Then, when Lacy was born, she softened...but only a little. "I _guess _you're a fair trade for my sports career," she told the infant as she held her in the hospital.

And you know what's _really _sick? All these years later, she still blamed him for 'ruining' her 'career.' _Oh, I was gonna go pro...I was so great...the best ever. _

No, Lynn, you weren't; you had talent, sure...for a small town high school team. You never would have made it on a pro team, or even a college one. Shut up. Your life would have turned out exactly the same: Married, children, broken dreams, miserable.

Lincoln had his own broken dreams, but he didn't blame his sisters; he was going to be a comic book artist. Well...guess what...that didn't happen. Boo hoo. Grow up and move on.

She was the only one to outright say she blamed him, but he got the feeling that the others felt the same. They were all young when they conceived, and all of their wants and desires had to be scrapped in favor of motherhood: Lola's pageants, Luna's music, Luan's comedy.

Oh, and how they fucking resented it.

During this time, his daughters were also standoffish...well, the older ones, at any rate. They didn't totally ignore him like their bitch mothers, but Lincoln could sense a certain static in the air when he spoke to or encountered them. Lupa was the worst: A few times he caught her looking at him with clear and abiding disgust written across her face. That bothered him more than his sisters and their shit. He and Lupa had never been close. She was like her mother, a loner who prefered quiet and solitude. She had always been that way, but even as a toddler she never sat with him the way the others did, she never snuggled up next to him or showed him any kind of affection. He didn't take it personally because she never did any of those things to Lucy either, but as she grew, he noticed that she _did _have the capacity for warmth and caring - for her sisters, namely Liena, Lyra, and Lacy...Lacy especially. He saw plenty of soft looks and fleeting touches between the two, heard Lupa many times giving Lacy advice and encouragement. That was great...heartwarming...

...but why didn't she love _him?_

Maybe she thought _he _didn't love _her_. After all, he stayed out of her way and didn't bother her because he figured she hated him. They were probably both convinced the other didn't care for them, meanwhile they each ached for a relationship.

He would go to her, he decided; he'd sit her down and let her know that he loved her.

The only ones in the house who openly embraced him anymore were Lacy and Leia. After discovering that Lacy was pregnant, he began to sleeping in her bed and spending more time with her, which obviously made Leia jealous; every time he turned around she was there with a big, hopeful smile and loving eyes. "Daddy, can we watch TV?" "Daddy, can we take a bath?" "Daddy, can you sleep in _my _room tonight?" He turned her down more often than not, and when he saw the disappointment in her eyes, he felt like such a piece of shit he could cry. He took her aside once and explained his reasoning, hoping to God she would understand.

_Lacy's pregnant, _he told her, _and right now she needs me to be there for her._

_So...she's your favorite?_

That struck Lincoln's heart like a bullet. He put his arm around his daughter and pulled her close to him. _No, honey, no, she just...she really needs me right now. It's...it's hard to explain. She's going through a really rough time right now and I _need _to be there for her. _

Leia sighed dejectedly and bowed her head. _I guess, _she said sullenly.

Sitting there and trying to console his six-year-old, it occurred to Lincoln, and not for the first time, just how tangled and complicated his relationship with his daughters was.

He took the next day off from work and kept Leia home from school so they could spend time together; they passed the majority of it in bed, their tacky bodies sticking together and their hot breaths mingling. "I love you, Daddy," she told him, "and I want to marry you."

That made two daughters who wanted to be his bride.

And one daughter filled with his child, constantly growing in her womb, its defective mind and body slowly forming. He didn't know how far along she was (he couldn't take her to the doctor because they might ask hard questions), but she was beginning to show already, just a little. When he held her he rested his hand on her stomach and tried to picture the _thing _within, but it disturbed him too much: He imagined tentacles, twisted bones, eyes filled with mindless idiocy.

He loved his daughter...and he loved their child...which is why, on the morning of December 4, he slipped into the basement, snapped on the overhead light, and descended the stairs. Dust stirred by his passage filled the air, and ancient wood creaked underfoot. His shoulders were bowed and his stomach rolled sickly; his tread was heavy, his feet barely leaving the ground.

At the foot of the stairs, he took a left into an alcove. The walls were brick, the floor was dirt; the earthy smell made him nauseous. He stopped at a large shelf crammed with vials, jars, and containers, each one of them filled with liquid and neatly labeled. Others stuff sat on a nearby workbench, all of the things he took out of Lisa's lab after the accident earlier in the year.

He knew what he was looking for...knew that it was here...but for a long time he stood with his hands on his hips and scanned the shelves; he knew he was delaying the inevitable, but he wasn't looking forward to this...God, he didn't want to do it.

Finally, he started to go through the glasses, his hands trembling. He found what he was looking for and picked it up; it shook in his grasp, the clear fluid within sloshing against the sides. He read and reread the yellowed label, his heart staggering and his breathing short.

Was he really going to do this?

_Could _he do this?

Hot tears welled in his eyes. He sat the jar down and went back upstairs. He felt cold...and dirty.

In the master bathroom, he stirpped, climbed into the shower, and turned the water as hot as he could stand. He stood under the spray, but the grime and chill were both internal, and nothing could scrub them away. He leaned his forehead against the slick tiled wall and ran through his plan for the millionth time since it came to him a week before, as he cuddled with Lacy in bed. A shiver went through him and nearly slipped.

It had to be done, though.

It was for the best.

And in life, sometimes the best thing is the _hardest _thing to do.

He didn't want to do this, though. God, he didn't want to.

When he was done, he got out and toweled off, then dressed in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. He went downstairs and through the dining room; Lacy was the only one at the table to look up at him, and a loving smile crossed her face. Lincoln flashed a tight grimace and hurried on, the feeling of dirtiness increasing exponentially. She loved him unconditionally...and here he was planning to do something so terrible, so awful that she would probably never forgive him.

It was for her for own good, though.

And their baby's.

* * *

There was a new boy in Lupa's class...and he liked her.

Ugh.

His name was Bronson, and he was one of those suburban white boys who dress like they're from the hood; he wore baggy pants, baggy shirts, Phat Pharm tennis shoes, and a silver chain around his neck. When he sat in a chair not attached to a desk, he had a bad habit of manspreading, his knees so far apart you'd need a car to get from one to the other, and when he spoke, he sounded like that dumbass...what's his name? You know, the white rapper with the fangs. Post Malone? No, not him..the other one.

Riff Raff! That's it.

Lupa fucking hated Riff Raff and she fucking hated Bronson; the moment she laid eyes on him her lips puckered and her brow crinkled. Ugh, really? Just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, here comes 'Lil Nutsack. Perfect.

On his first day, the teacher stuck him in the only open seat...which just so happened to be right next to Lupa. Oh, happy fucking day. Throughout their first class together, he kept stealing sidelong glances at her; dumb bastard thought she didn't notice, but she did. At first she assumed he was looking at her legs...deformities always draw rubberneckers. _Oh, look, someone's _different. _Let's heap derision and ignorance on them. _

Or maybe it was her white hair. People gawked at that too.

Never, though, did she even for a second think he was checking her out...until two days later. She was at her locker getting her chemistry book when he came strutting up, his back bowed slightly back. When she slammed the door and turned, he was there, and she started. "Yo, girl, what it do?" he asked with a nod.

Lupa's brow pinched. What it do? What the fuck? No, she understood he was asking her how it was in Moron, but...really, how the hell did that phrase even happen? Who first uttered it? Who thought it up and went _Gee, this a great way to ask someone what's up_? She didn't know, but she imagined they were dumb as a box of dogshit.

Instead of dignifying this stupid bastard with a response, she silently glared at him.

Someone people, though, can't take a hint. Dude donned an idiot grin and nodded. "So, you tryin' to see a movie? Maybe go to McDonald's and chill?"

Lupa's jaw nearly dropped. Whoa, whoa, whoa...did he just ask her on a date?

To McDonald's?

She couldn't help it, she reallly couldn't: She laughed. She laughed so hard tears streamed down her face and her head ached, so hard she could barely breathe, so hard she nearly went over like a lightning struck tree in a forest. Bronson's smile faltered and he cocked an eyebrow, and that made her laugh even harder; passing kids looked at her like she was crazy.

"Aye, you 'ight?" he asked.

She didn't know what was funnier...him asking her out or him asking her out to fucking McDonald's. Come on, guy, if you wanna take a girl out you gotta do better than a fast food joint. It doesn't have to be a thousand dollar a plate restaurant...hell, even Pizza Hut would be okay. She brushed a tear away from her eye and shook her head slowly. "Not gonna happen," she said. "Sorry."

Instead of reacting poorly and calling her a bitch ass ho or something like she expected, he simply shrugged. "'Ight."

That wasn't the end of it, though. A week later, she was sitting at her desk with her chin in her palm and fighting to stay awake when someone issued an annoying _psssst. _She looked over, and he was holding out a folded piece of paper. She glared at him, and he waved it instantly around. She shook her head. No.

He leaned over and waved the note even harder.

"No," she said tightly.

He leaned over completely and sat it on her desk. She flashed and swept it off; it landed on the floor with a papey plop. Bronson narrowed his eyes. "The fuck's wrong wit'chu?"

Hot rage well in Lupa's chest; her teeth ground and her fists clenched, a hot blush spreading across her face "Fuck you," she hissed, "leave me alone."

Bronson's face darkened. "Bitch," he said.

Lupa snatched her text book off the desk and drew it back; he flinched and threw up his arms.

"Lupa," the teacher said sharply, "what are you doing?"

For a moment she was frozen in place, the book cocked and ready to fire….then she slammed it against the desk and turned to face the front of the room. "Nothing," she said.

"Can I continue?" he asked with a snarky edge that made Lupa even angrier.

"Please," she retorted.

She stared straight ahead for the rest of the class, even when she caught Bronson looking at her from the corner of her eye. Screw him, ugly ass, wannabe ass, fucking Paul Wall looking piece of shit. Isn't that just like a man? A girl doesn't want him so she's automatically a 'bitch' or a 'dyke' or something. Spoken like a true fuckboy, Slim Shady ass dicklick.

Today, December 4, she sat at a long table in the cafeteria across from Lacy, a tray of food in front of her: Lumpy mashed potatoes, anemic looking green beans, and a slab of mystery meat slathered in brown grave; it could have been horse...or shoe leather...or any damn thing but US Grade A. She flipped it over with her fork and it made a wet, disgusting plopping sound. Sigh. She glanced up at Lacy, who ate ravenously, her lips smeared brown and her jaw working as she chewed. Over the past few weeks, she had gone from a 'gotta watch my weight because sports' type to 'gotta eat every five minutes because pregnancy.' Lupa got it, she was eating for two now, but damn, she was a _machine_. That kid was gonna come out weighing fifteen pounds and gnawing on a chicken bone.

Lupa turned her patty over again, then set her fork down and pushed the tray across the table. "Here," she said, "you can have mine."

Swallowing, Lacy grabbed it and dragged it closer. "Thanks."

She was really starting to show, Lupa thought as she opened her milk carton and took a drink. You wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it (and if she was wearing a loose fitting jersey like she was now), but her stomach was clearly growing, and if you touched it (which Lupa had) it felt strange and hard. Since her sister was pregnant, Lupa brushed up on her pregnancy facts, and apparently a woman's gut get firmer to protect the baby. The human body's an amazing thing, isn't it? The way it functions and adapts. Lupa didn't believe in God, but looking at certain things she kind of wondered.

Anyway, she was showing and soon, it would be painfully obvious that she had a bun in the oven, which was not a good thing as far as Dad was concerned; she overheard him and aunt Lynn talking, and Dad was adamant that Lacy's pregnancy be kept a secret.

Probably because he didn't want to go to jail or something.

Even though he fucking deserved it.

That was Dad for you, though, always thinking about himself. Just like his bitch sisters.

Lupa's chest clinched and she clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. It made her feel guilty, but over the past couple weeks, since Dad and aunt Lynn's fight in the bathroom, she had come to realize something: She hated them. She hated her father, her mother (currently on a three month 'vampire hunting' trip in Transylvania), her aunts, and her grandparents; she hated her grandfather, who she had never met, and her grandmother, who lived across town with aunt Lily and wouldn't have anything to do with them. She hated her father for what he did to her and her siblings - fucking his own sisters and producing damaged children - she hated Lori, Leni, Luna, and the rest for the same reason. She hated them all for how selfish and petty they were: Lola always on her phone and worrying about her appearance; Luna always going to concerts without her kids (oh, don't mind me, I'm a childless rock chick out on the town!). They all existed in a perpetual state of head-up-their-ass-itude.

She really hoped Lacy wasn't like that with _her _baby.

Dad would be.

Until it was old enough to fuck...if it was a girl.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize someone was standing over her shoulder until they spoke, "Ay'yo."

Her nerves grated.

It was Bronson.

Why can't some people take a hint? Why are some people so fucking imbecilic that they have to have every little they spelled out for them? She honestly didn't get it; did their brains not work right? Were they missing pieces of it? Come on, if she was in his shoes, she would have smartened up _real _quick. _She glared at me and told me to leave her alone...she must not be interested_. With men, though, apparently it's..._guess I better keep going. _

Slowly, Lupa turned her head over her shoulder; as she did so, she summoned the meanest, nastiest, sourest expression she could, her lips pursed, the corners turned down; eyes hard and narrow; forehead pinched. Their eyes locked, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face and he fell back a step. Lacy watched intently, her fork half way to her mouth and her body tense. At the slightest provocation, she would jump in and protect her sister if need be.

"Yo," Bronson said, "you ain't tryin' do nuffin, really?"

"Yes," Lupa said tightly.

"Why, doe?"

His shoulders lifted and dropped and his hands spread.

She took a deep, even breath through her nose. "I'm not interested," she said calmly. "Sorry."

Bronson rolled his eyes. "Girl, you can't be picky. Look at yo legs. You gotta…"

Lupa snapped. She balled her fist and lashed out; her hand connected with his groin and his eyes went wide, the words dying on his lips. "Oh, shit," Lacy said and laughed.

His hands went to his crotch and he sank to his knees, his head bowing. Lupa felt a dark rush of satisfaction. "Now fuck off," she said just as Principal Magin walked up, his hands fluttering to his hips. Lupa looked up into his face and her heart skipped a beat.

Aw, shit.

That's how she wound up sitting in the main office with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face; her crutches sat across her lap and her fingers tapped against her elbow. Principal Magin had already chewed her a new asshole and suspended her, now she was waiting for her father to come pick her up. Home, school, what was the difference? She hated both in equal measure, though at least at home she didn't have some little bitch sniffing around her butt. She drew a heavy sigh. She could _really _use a cigarette. She had a pack and a lighter in the pocket of her hoodie, and as soon as she slipped into Dad's car…

Oh, speak of the Devil, here he is now coming through the door, his thin frame clad in jeans and a red flannel shirt; his face was set in an expression that said _I'm not happy. _Yeah, buddy, neither am I. He crossed to the counter and the secretary glanced up at him.

"I'm here to pick up my daughter," he said, "Lupa Loud."

"She's right there," she said and nodded. Dad looked over his shoulder, and Lupa glanced away, her fingers tapping faster now. Since Lacy got pregnant, Lupa couldn't look him in the face; when she did her stomach turned and she felt like she was going to be sick.

Dad glared at her for a moment, then came over. "Come on," he said shortly.

In the car, Lupa pulled out her pack, shook a cigarette out, and plopped it into her mouth. She lit it and took a deep drag, the harsh smoke rolling into her lungs. Dad gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead as he navigated the car through the streets of Royal Woods. Lupa stared out the window, thin smoke curling from the tip of her cigarette. She took another puff and held it until her lungs burst. She didn't feel as unremittingly pessimistic; the nicotine was working its magic. The sweet, sweet nicotine.

"Why'd you hit that boy?" Dad asked without looking at her.

Lupa lifted the filter to her lips and sucked. "He was harassing me."

Dad glanced at her then. "He was?"

Lupa nodded. "Umhm."

"How?"

She told him everything, from the moment Bronson swished into class like God's gift to blue eyed hip hop to the moment she punched his shriveled up little testicles in. He listened intently, nodding and grunting here and there. By the time she was finished, they were sitting in the driveway and she was three quarters of the way through her second cigarette. Dad sighed. "Honey..I know he was getting on your nerves, but you don't hit someone like that. It's wrong."

"And choking aunt Lynn isn't?" Lupa asked sourly.

Dad blinked, a tiny blush of shame coloring his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then looked down at his lap. "Yeah. That was wrong too."

Lupa hummed and took a drag. Dad looked at her, his eyes filled with something like need. Need for what she didn't know, but her heart squeezed at what it _probably _was; they had an understanding, but she wouldn't put it past him to renege.

She threw the door open, twisted, and grabbed her crutches from the back. She got out, got them under her arms, and hobbled to the door. Dad followed, leaning over and opening the door for her. Okay, she was wrong; she had a little bitch sniffing around her butt at home too now.

Aunt Luna, aunt Lana, aunt Lola, and aunt Lori were sitting on the couch watching one of those dumb soaps they loved so much. When Principal Magin called the house, Lupa was sitting in his office and distinctly heard aunt Lori say, "I am literally busy, I can't come." Yeah, she looked real fucking busy.

None of them turned as Lupa went up the stairs, her pace agonizingly slow. She hated climbing them with her crutches; it was such a pain in the ass. At the top, she glanced over her shoulder, and her father was there. "Do you need something?" she asked shortly.

Dad opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed. "I want to talk to you."

'Talk'? Is _that _what you call it now, Linc? She didn't say this - or anything else - as she clunked into her room. Dad came behind and closed the door behind him as she sat and threw her crutches aside. She relished the sound they made as they hit the floor...she really fucking hated those things.

Dad stood by the door for a moment looking uncomfortable, then he came over and sat next to her with a sigh, the mattress dipping down. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at Lacy's bed - well, _his _bed too. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Lupa was beginning to get uncomfortable. "I've been thinking a lot lately," he started, "about us. We've never been...really close and I just wanted to tell you I love you."

When he snaked his arm around her shoulders, her heart blasted against her chest. "Get the fuck off of me," she cried and drew violently away. Dad pulled his arm away and fixed her with a hurt expression. Lupa did not see this,however; she saw him on top of Lacy and thrusting, his face red and sweat sheening his forehead; she saw him sitting on the couch and holding a naked Leia - _a naked fucking six-year-old_ \- as he filled her with his seed; saw the man who saddled her sister with a defective child...the man who saddled _her _with defective legs.

"Lupa…" he said.

"Leave me alone!"

He winced. "Lupa, look, I just…"

"Aunt Lynn's a bitch but she was right. You're a piece of shit...and a child molester."

He recoiled as if slapped.

Something about the dumb, wounded look on his face filled her with rage. Oh, poor little victim, poor Lincoln, he never did _anything _wrong. She sneered. "You're a bastard, a fucking loser who has sex with his daughters because he's fucked in his head. You make me sick."

The hurt drained from Dad's face, and dark anger took its place. "Look, you…"

"No, _you _look!" She bent, lifted her skirt, and yanked down her socks: Her legs were bumped, twisted, and withered. "Look at what you did to me. Go into Loan's room and look what you did to her...look what you did to Lacy. You're abnormal, this whole fucking family is abnormal." Her rage, held inside for so long, was spilling forth now, and she wouldn't have been able to hold it back even if she wanted to. Her face was red, her eyes were pooled with loathing, and her teeth were clenched. "You and your bitch sisters…"

"Shut the fuck up," he said lowly, dangerously.

"...did this to us. And now you get Lacy pregnant because this wasn't enough for you, huh? You don't care about her, you don't care about any of us...all you care about is that little fucking thing between your legs. I oughta call CPS…"

Her words cut off when his palm crashed hard into her face; stars filled her vision and her head whipped to one side. Her hand lifted to her cheek, and she winced when her fingers pressed against it. Dad watched her with murderous intent, his face darker than she had ever seen it. In that moment, he looked evil...and in that moment, she was honestly afraid of him, her little heart slamming and her spine tingling.

Something warm and wet trickled onto her upper lip. She touched her nose, and her fingertips came away bloody.

She looked at him, and her hatred became total...eternal. "Get out of my room." she hissed, "pedophile."

Dad balled his fist, and she thought he was going to kill her...literally kill her. Instead, he got to his feet, crossed the room, and ripped the door open. He spared her one last soul withering glance, then went out and slammed the door so hard behind him that it shook in its frame.

Alone, Lupa stared down at her lap…

...and began to cry.

* * *

Leia got home at half past three, took her backpack off, and hung it from the coat rack. She closed the door behind her and turned the thumblock just as a peal of thunder rolled across the leaden sky. She stood back and crossed her arms, waiting with a smug smile on her face. Any time now, any time now, any…

The knob rattled.

Ah, _there _she is. Leia expected her to take longer.

_Knock-knock-knock. _

Leia leaned forward, her face inches from the door. "We don't want any. Go away."

"Let me in!" Lizy cried.

Every afternoon, Leia walked home from school and cut through Wayside Park. Today, she was crossing the green expanse when someone called her name. She turned, and yuck, aunt Leni was by the swings with Lizy. Putting on a fake smile, Leia went over. "Hey," aunt Leni said.

"Hey," Leia said. Her eyes went to her stupid, ugly sister; she sat motionless on the swing and stared down at her feet. Good, she learned her lesson: They had it out that morning because Leia was sick of seeing that blind, milky eye looking at her. It was gross and creepy.

"Can Lizy walk home with you?" Leni asked, "I, like, have someone - I mean something - to do." She flashed a nervous smile and her cheeks burned pink. Lizy's head whipped up and she looked at her aunt with something like fear...and pleading.

Leia fought really hard to keep from rolling her eyes. "Sure," she said sweetly, "I _love _spending time with my little sister." She snatched Lizy's hand and dragged her off the swing. When aunt Leni was out of earshot, she let go and blotted her hand on her skirt. "Don't talk, don't touch me, I'm pretending you were stillborn. Alright, One Eye?"

Lizy simply nodded.

Two blocks from home, thunder rumbled in the distance, and Lizy froze in her tracks. She was _terrified _of thunder.

Leia's lips spread in a shark-like smile.

Another peal sounded, and Lizy instinctively drew close to her older sister for protection; Leia shoved her to the ground. Lizy's bare knee scraped against the rough concrete and she howled.

"Bye," Leia said, and started to run.

Behind her, Lizy broke down crying. "WAIT!" she wailed.

Leia giggled madly.

"PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!" she screamed hysterically and got to her feet; blood coursed down her leg and stained the top of her sock. "LEIA, PLEASE!"

Presently, Lizy banged on the door. "Let me in, please!"

The fear in her voice made Leia's smile widen. She turned, threw a middle finger over her shoulder, and went upstairs, Lizy's frightened pounding and muffled crying following her like sweet music. In her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, pulled her shoes off, and got up.

She was hoping she could get Daddy to sleep in her bed tonight, but she didn't think she'd have much luck, he was too hung up on _Lacy _because she was _pregnant_. Oh, she's going through a rough time right now. Well...Leia didn't _care _what Lacy was going through, she only cared that she had to sleep alone at night because of her. Part of her wanted to kill Lacy right now and reclaim what was rightfully hers, but there was another part of her...a much bigger part...that wanted to wait, and she was seriously considering doing just that. She'd sit on her hands for a few months...then, when Lacy was big and fat, she'd strike: She could see herself now, a knife in her hand and a gleam in her eye. Lacy lay before her, terror stamped on her face. Oh, Leia would enjoy herself. She'd rip that stupid baby right out of her stomach, strangle it while Lacy wept and begged for its life, then make the bitch eat it. Bon appetit.

Is it strange that that made her horny?

In the bathroom, she pulled her panties down, sat on the toilet, and did her business as images of dead babies and dying thirteen-year-old girls danced through her head. When she was done, she wiped then went back into her room. She dropped onto her bed just as Lizy came in; she was wet from the rain and trembling like an ugly, one eyed dog. Her face was pale and bloodless and there was a haunted expression upon her face.

"Ew, who let _you _in?"

Lizy didn't reply. She went to her bed, climbed on, and buried her face in her pillow. She started to snivel, and Leia rolled her eyes. She _should _make her shut up, but she wanted to go downstairs and wait for Daddy anyway, so she got up and went out into the hall, passing Lyra on the way. The older girl hummed a tune and bobbed her head. "Hey, Lei," she said and Leia winced. Leia started to snap, but stopped. There was something about Lyra, something..._different..._something that Leia couldn't quite put her finger on.

Shrugging, she went down the stairs and dropped onto the couch next to her mother, who grinned down at her phone; she was blushing. Leia stole a peek at the screen and saw '_...suck your tit as I finger your tight little pussy." _Ew. What a slut.

At least she didn't have to compete with her too.

Leia crossed her arms and stared at the TV; she paid more attention to the front door than to the stupid news. She was just starting to get bored (guess I'll go pick on Lizy) when it opened and Dad came in. "Daddy!" Leia cried and jumped up. She went over to him and threw her arms around his leg. He ran his fingers through her hair and she shivered delightedly. She pulled away and looked up at him with big eyes. "Daddy, can we play? I really miss you."

He stared down at her for a moment, then smiled. "Sure." He picked her up and held her the way a groom would his bride. She threw her arms around his neck and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "How was your day, Daddy?" she asked as he carried her up the stairs.

"Alright," he said in a tone that indicated it was anything but, "how was yours?"

"Okay."

In her room, he laid her on the bed and climbed on top of her. She spread her legs wide and kissed him, not so chasetly this time, her hands flattening against his chest. He laid his hand on her thigh and moved it slowly up her bare flesh, his light, deft touch sending tendrils of electricity into her core. She moaned into his mouth as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down teasingly down.

Across the room, Lizy stared at the wall, her arms crossed, her knees drawn up, and tears standing in her eyes. Leia's voice, as it often did when her mind wasn't busied, echoed through her head. _You're worthless...disgusting...do us a favor and die.._

As her sister began to pant and her father moaned, Lizy's lips started to move. "I'm worthless," she muttered, "I'm disgusting…"


	7. Lizy 5:29

**Guest: Maybe. I think almost everyone wants a clean and neatly wrapped ending. I know as reader I do, but sometimes, the story is better, and hits harder, when the ending isn't so happy or definite. What ****I tried to do with The 'Cest Kids was bring the family and the individual characters so low that by the time the end came, it was more of a relief than anything. I always thought that the ending I used was one of the better possible ones.**

Today was a bad day, but weren't most of them? Mondays were good, Wednesdays were good, and Fridays were good. The other days? Not so much. Today, Tuesday, she woke to the shrill cry of the alarm, her red, tired eyes creaking open and her mind swirling with faint but insistent thoughts - dark thoughts, nagging thoughts, thoughts that were easy to ignore and recognize for the lies of a sick mind...for now. She sat up, reached for the pill bottle on the nightstand, and twisted the cap off. From the corner of her eye, she saw Liby sitting on the end of her bed, her hands folded in her lap and her head bowed: She wouldn't leave the room without Lyra because she was still afraid Lemy would try to hurt her. When Lyra wasn't around, she stayed close to Liena or Lacy. When she encountered Lemy or even saw him, like at dinner, the color drained from her face and she shook like a leaf. Lyra felt so awful…

_She's plotting._

The voice was faint, like the rustle of leaves in a light breeze. Lyra's fingers curled around the bottle and her heart began to race.

_Planning._

_No, she's not, shut up_. She shook a tiny white tablet into her hand, tossed it into her mouth, and chewed it slowly, her face screwing up at the bitter taste. Chewing it gets it to your bloodstream faster, she'd read, and she needed it _quick_.

_You're playing with fire, _she thought as she returned the cap to the bottle and sat it on the nightstand. _This is how it always starts_.

Yeah, well, not this time; she was only going to skip every other day...and it was _not _going to eventually turn into everyday like it did in the past.

She swung her long, shapely legs out from under the covers and stood, her purple polished toes instinctively digging into the carpet. She stretched and yawned deeply, then crossed to the door. Liby jumped up and scurried after her, terrified of being left behind.

_SHE'S COMING TO GET YOU!_

Lyra's heart slammed and the back of her neck tingled as if in anticipation of a blow...even though she _knew _Liby wasn't going to hurt her. She took a deep breath and shoved those thoughts away. Think of something else, girl...like how long this line is. Two, four, six...eight. Ugh, and I have to pee! She fell gamely in behind Lizy, crossed her arms, and cocked her hip, her head flopping back and her eyes closing. She was starting to feel groggy already; psychosomatic, she figured, as the pill hadn't had enough time to hit her system yet. Dread gathered in her stomach like black storm clouds, and she moaned in the back of her throat. She really, _really _didn't want to deal with this.

Tears filled her eyes, but she held them back. Happy thoughts, Lye, happy thoughts. After school she and her girls were going to have a jam sesh, and sleepy or not, those were always fun. Oh, and it was Tuesday, which meant tacos; the school cafeteria botched literally every dish but tacos. Somehow, their tacos were _bomb_. What else, what else? Ummm...it wasn't raining.

Ahead, the bathroom door opened and Dad came out in a puff of white steam, his bare chest slick and a towel wrapped around his waist. His face was dark, his expression grim and hard. Lyra glanced away as he passed; since the day he beat Lacy across the back with his belt, she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. She wasn't really _angry _as much as she was...disturbed. She loved him, but honestly, he scared her.

The line moved as Lemy went in. Lyra squeezed her thighs together and tried to ignore her bursting bladder.

_Doing it...purpose._

The voice was quieter now, barely above a mumble. A shiver went down Lyra's spine and she drew a deep breath. "They…" she started, but snapped her mouth closed, her heart palpitating sickly. No one seemed to notice, and she sighed in relief; the moment she started talking to herself, her mother would be on her like cool on Bon Scott. _You're skipping your meds? Come on, dude, you know that's bogus. _

When her turn finally came, she went in, and Liby hurried after. What, I can't even pee alone now? She started to snap, but stopped herself. It was sometimes hard to keep in mind that Liby was basically a five-year-old. Shaking her head, Lyra crossed to the toilet, hiked up her nightgown, and sat while Liby stood by the door, her eyes glued to the tops of her shoes. Lyra planted her elbows in her thighs and rested her face in her hands. "Lemy isn't going to hurt you, Lib, I promise."

Liby tensed at the mention of her brother's name.

Lyra pushed, and her stream sprayed out of her, the sensation making her eyelids flutter. She didn't care what _anyone _said, a good morning pee was better than sex. "He thought you wanted to have sex, he didn't know you don't like it, but I talked to him. He said he wouldn't bother you again."

The younger girl made no reply...showed no sign that she had even heard. Lyra sighed, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and leaned forward. "Seriously, you have to stop being so scared of him." She wiped, flushed, and got to her feet. While she washed her hands, Liby took her place on the commode. Done, Lyra crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, and waited for her sister to finish. Her eyelids were getting heavy and her mind was starting to muddle. Ugh. Why couldn't they give her something that didn't knock her out? What was the reasoning behind this crap? _Can't be a schizophrenic when you're in a coma_. Yeah, sure, great logic there, Big Pharma, what else you got? Cyanide for cancer patients? Bullets for the elderly? Miracle drugs, I tell you.

After Liby was done, they went back into their room, Liby sitting on the edge of her bed and Lyra crossing to the closet. She scanned the contents before selecting a white tank top and a purple jacket. She went to her dresser, took out a skirt and a pair of panties, and hurriedly dressed. "Come on," she said to Liby as she went into the hall. Liby launched off the bed and followed.

In the kitchen, she made herself and Liby a bowl of cereal, then carried them into the dining room, where her siblings were eating in silence. Sometimes it really bothered Lyra that they didn't talk and laugh together like the families on TV; instead they were lost in their own little worlds, islands unto themselves. She sat next to Liena, who was feeding Loan bits of oatmeal; Loan was strapped into her chair and rocking back and forth like a delighted baby.

"That's good, huh?" Liena cooed as she dipped the spoon in the bowl. She was smiling and her face glowed with radiant happiness. Okay, not _all _of her siblings were islands in the stream...Liena genuinely liked helping and spending time with her brother and sisters, Lizy and Loan especially. A few weeks ago, Liena confided in Lyra that she was "a teensy, weensy, itty, bitty bit" jealous of Lacy. _I want a baby too, _she pouted and crossed her arms. _I'd make a great mommy. _

Lyra didn't doubt that, Liena had alway been good with her younger siblings. She could be ditzy and dumb like her mother, but when it came to children, she was loving, attentive, focused, and responsible. If Lyra had her own children, she would trust Liena with them...totally and faithfully.

"You ready for more?" Liena asked.

Loan gurgled in the back of her throat.

"I'll take that as a yesssss," Liena said in a singsong voice.

Lyra turned away and glanced at Lacy, who sat between Lizy and Lemy and ate from an oversized Tupperware container overflowing with three different kinds of cereal. She wore a # 2 jersey three times bigger than her normal ones to conceal her stomach, which was steadily expanding. Shortly after they found out she was pregnant, Dad called them together and swore them to secrecy. _No one outside of this house is to know. Ever. If you say _anything...here he stripped off his belt and dropped it onto the coffee table, which made Lyra so cold she hugged herself. It was getting harder and harder to hide it, though; Lupa figured she was about about fifteen weeks, and in just a couple more, even the biggest, baggiest jersey in the world wouldn't be able to hide it.

What then?

_What then?_

* * *

Lacy and Lupa made their way to school at a leisurely pace, neither in a hurry: Because of Lupa's legs, they left earlier than they had to anyway, but with Lacy being pregnant now, they left even earlier. _Don't wanna overdo it, _Lacy told her once. That was her mindset these days: She dropped off all her teams, she didn't pester her siblings to play sports with her anymore, and she took it so easy she'd have to play hard to get to be a slut. She also ate right, as in broccoli and shit. She _hated _broccoli, but she pounded stalks down the way their faggot father pounded down beers. She winced, grimaced, and gagged the whole time, but she said _It's good for the baby _and that was that.

Presently, Lupa glanced at her sister; her hand rested on the swell of her stomach and she stared down at it with loving devotion, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth and a warm glow in her eyes. Lupa's lips threatened to twitch upwards, so she looked away. Lacy was really happy and looking forward to being a Mom and it was _very _hard to not be infected by her joy.

Like VD.

"Hey," Lacy said, looking up and squinting against the glare of the winter sun, "you think I should go with an 'L' name?"

"No," Lupa said instantly. This was a topic she had quietly pondered many, many times in the past. "Everyone having names that start with the same letter is cheesy and dumb. Do something original."

Lacy looked thoughtful for a second. "I don't think it's dumb."

Well...Lupa did; even though her family was nothing like that, she could clearly envision a 'same letter' family being dorky and wearing matching sweaters or something. Gross. Then again, her family would be a lot better off if it was dorky instead of severely dysfunctional. _She'd _be a lot better off...at least from the waist down.

She sighed. She suddenly didn't feel like talking. "I dunno. Do what you want."

Lacy hummed and stared straight ahead: Cars moved through a busy intersection and a group of elementary schoolers waited for the crosswalk sign to change from red to green. She saw pink Frozen backpacks, light up Sketchers, and superhero T-shirts...was that boy wearing Heelys? Lupa thought those went out of style fifty years ago. "I kind of like Rachel for a girl," Lacy said as they came to the curb. A little black boy about six turned and stared down at Lupa's crippled legs, his brow furrowed in confusion. Lupa shot him a dirty look that he didn't notice because he was too busy gaping. Little shit. I oughta slap you into traffic.

"And Cary for a boy," Lacy added.

Lupa spared her sister a sidelong glance; she bounced from one foot to the other in excitement. "That's a girl's name."

"Not it's not," Lacy said defensively. "There was that actor...Cary Graham or whatever. He was manly."

Actually, it was Cary Grant, but whatever. "It's still a girl's name. Call him Bill or George...anything but Cary."

She grinned at her sly classical reference. Of course, Lacy didn't get it, but no one ever got her, so it was okay. "I don't like those names. They're...like grandpa names."

Lupa could feel the little boy's gaze on her. She turned and he looked up at her. "What happened to your legs?" he asked inquisitively.

"Incest," Lupa said.

He looked confused. "What's that?"

Lupa shifted her crutches and leaned as close to his face as she could; he took a hesitant step backwards. "It's a monster," she said. "It hates women and black people."

He gulped.

"You better be careful, or you'll be next."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. She grinned in satisfaction and turned back to Lacy, who, she realized, had been talking this whole time. "...I could live with Alex or Tim. Mark, too.I just _really _like Cary."

Lupa sighed. "Whatever." That kid was going to have a bigger problems than being named Cary anyway. She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and tried not to think any further, but images of Lacy holding a twisted _monster _to her breast came regardless, and hot color spread across the back of Lupa's neck. She thought back to the confrontation with her father several weeks ago, and she so bitterly regretted not clawing his eyes out that her stomach knotted.

She hated that man.

The light changed, and she and Lacy crossed. Lacy rubbed her stomach and stared at it. When she first found out, she was scared and unhappy, but the more her baby grew, the more excited she became; at night she dreamed of holding it and cooing to it, and during the day, her hand fluttered to her bump without her even realizing it. Last week, she felt it move for the first time, a very faint flutter like the fleeting kiss of butterfly wings, and she responded by laughing, crying, and calling for her father. He came in bleary-eyed and unshaven, and stared down at his feet as he listened to her prattle. It was a strange feeling...an amazing feeling...and every time she felt it she giggled like a little girl.

She couldn't _wait _to hold it, and kiss its nose, its forehead, its fingers, its toes, and everything else; she would drown her little boy or girl in kisses and affection, her beautiful baby, the physical embodiment of her love for her Daddy.

Once, she thought sports was her future, but now she could see clearly, and she recognized that it was not. Bearing her father's children was. And as soon as she could, she would run away with him and let him get her pregnant again...and again...and again. They would have a little house somewhere and they would fill it with babies, babies...and love.

By the time they got to school, she was bouncing and humming happily, her ponytail swishing across the back of her neck and her eyes shining with radiance. At her locker, she put in the combination, opened the door, and rummaged around for her history book. Lupa might think it was a girl's name, but she really liked Cary. It was unique; you don't meet one of those every day like you do a Joe or a Bob. She also liked Mark, though; it was far more common, but nice nonetheless. Rachel was good, but she also liked Faith, and Olivia too.

So many names, so little time. Uh, and baby. What about Olivia Faith? Ooooh, that was pretty. Olivia Faith Loud. Yeah, that sounded nice. Cary Mark Loud. Hmmm, that didn't sound _quite _as nice, but it was good enough.

As she made her way to class through the crowded hall, she sighed in contentment. No need to rush, Lace, you have _plenty _of time to come up with a name...

* * *

Liena Loud clasped her hands in front of her and looked around at the scenery, her head bobbing side to side and her eyes darting here, there, and everywhere. Ohh, that tree is pretty; that house looks _super _cozy; wow, what a cute doggie, it's, like, got floppy ears. Flop, flop, flop. She _really _wanted to go pet it, but it was in its yard with no adults around, and Lienas aren't allowed to go into other people's yards without permission. She learned _that _lesson the hard way when she was twelve; she went into her neighbor's yard to get a Frisbee and he yelled at her _very _meanly. He said she was, like...a blonde bimbo or something. She didn't know what a bimbo was, but it made her sad and she ran away crying. She didn't like being yelled at, so she vowed to never go into someone's yard ever again unless they said she could.

She sighed and glanced over at Lyra; she had a pair of headphones over her ears, loud, crashing rock music drifting to Liena's ears and making her frown. It sounded like mad music. She squinted and leaned in to hear the lyrics.

_Hey_

_You're a crazy bitch_

_But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it_

_When I dream, I'm doing you all night_

_Scratches all down my back to keep me right on_

Her cheeks turned pink and she drew away with a elfin grin. She liked sex songs. She liked sex in general. Like, a lot. In fact, she was kind of in the middle of a sex problem: She wasn't having any and it was making her really, really sad. Usually she did it with Dad, but he was really busy having sex with Lacy and Leia, and to be honest, after he beat Lacy up that one time, she kind of wasn't horny for him anymore. That left Lemy, and over the past three weeks they had sex four times, which was only enough to take the edge off. She loved her little brother with all her heart, but he just wasn't any good; he came _waaaay _too soon. He could get her off with his fingers, but that's, like, eating chips when you want a hamburger.

She drew a deep sigh and looked around in an attempt to get her mind off the way her special place boiled, and the way her flesh burned. That car looks _fast_. Liena _liked _fast. And slow too. She liked being treated like a princess...and then like a whore. She liked…

_Not thinking about this._

She tilted closer to Lyra.

_Get the video_

_fuck you so good_

_Get the video_

_fuck you so good_

_Crazy bitch_

_Crazy bitch_

_Crazy...bitch_

Ummm, she could use a good…

...Ugh.

And, like, the thing was, now she didn't _just _want sex, she wanted sex that would get her pregnant like Lacy. Lacy was going to be a mommy and Liena wanted to be a mommy too; she _loved _babies and if she had her own she'd be _really _happy. She didn't think Lemy's boy stuff worked because he finished in her all the time and she never got pregnant. Or, gasp, maybe her girl stuff didn't work. Dad finished in her all the time too and still, nothing.

Her chest tightened and her hand fluttered to her throat; breathing was suddenly hard and she felt like she was going to have a panic attack or something. She _really _hoped her girl stuff worked because if it didn't she would _never _be a mommy, only an auntie, and she didn't want to be just an auntie.

A dark ripple went through her stomach.

Maybe it wasn't that, maybe her eggs, like, didn't want Dad or Lemy's babies. Maybe she needed to try having a baby with someone else.

They were at a busy intersection now, the ped walk sign flashing a red stoppy hand and not a white go-y person, which meant you couldn't cross yet. She clutched the front of her overalls and looked around for a man; she saw gangs of kids walking toward the middle school, an old woman shuffling along like a witch in a scary story, and a fat woman carrying a paper bag of groceries. Of course, Liena thought sourly, when you need one they're not around, just like cops or something. She crossed her arms and pinched her brow. She had to find one before she got to school, because you aren't allowed to have sex in school.

The light changed, and she and Lyra crossed. They were in downtown now, the sidewalk flanked by quaint storefronts and dotted with barren trees. School was just around the corner, and if she got there before she found a man she would _never _be a mommy. Her step faltered and Lyra pulled ahead, disappearing around the edge of a building. What should she do? She couldn't skip, her parents and teachers would be mad at her. She could _maybe _be a little late, but even that was pushing it. She sighed. I guess I'll just, like, be an old spinster or something. She started walking again and turned the corner, coming face to face with a boy on a bike...a very _fast _bike. Her heart jumped into her throat and she uttered a sharp cry. The boy's face when white and he yanked the handlebars to the left, slamming into the side of the building and falling off with a scream. He landed hard on his elbows and his features twisted in agony. The bike was on its side now, the front tire crumpled from the impact and the back spinning hypnotically. For a moment Liena was rooted in place, her entire body trembling, then his moans of pain reached her and she shook her head.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asked worriedly. She went to him and dropped to one knee.

His eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth were bared. "That hurt," he managed.

Liena's stomach dropped. Oh, no, she hurt someone. She didn't like hurting people, she wanted to be nice and caring, not, like, a monster or something. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I just wasn't watching where I was going because I was thinking about...things...and I'm _really _sorry."

"It's fine," he said, "I'm okay." He sat up and winced. Liena rocked back on her knees and forced a sheepish smile when he glanced at her; his eyes were pale green and his sandy brown hair was wavy like a field of grain. His narrow cheeks were smattered with acne and faint peach fuzz covered his upper lip.

He was kind of cute.

Hissing over his teeth, he got to his feet and checked the elbows of his red flannel shirt; they were ripped and torn.

Liena felt really bad; she knew how embarrassing it was to have rips in her clothes; it made her feel like a hobo or something. "I'm really sorry," she said again; she was on her knees still, her hands resting on the tops of her legs.

"You're fine," he said and turned to his bike, "it was my fa...oh, no." His shoulders slumped and he threw his head back. Liena looked at it; she wasn't the smartest person in the world, but she knew when something was completely totaled, and his bike was _completely _totaled. She turned her gaze to him, and found herself looking at his butt; the seat of his jeans stretched across them like a second skin. Her core tingled and she licked her lips like a hungry animal.

Uh! Wait a minute...he was a boy! In all the excitement of nearly being turned into a Liena pancake, she had totally forgotten that she was trying to get pregnant.

"My dad's gonna kill me," the boy said and hung his head, the flat of his palm pressed mournfully to his forehead. Liena craned her neck to get a look at his crotch but couldn't.

"I'm really sorry," she repeated. Like, how could she get hm to put a baby in her? It's a pretty big step from 'I'm sorry I wrecked your bike' to 'harder, daddy, faster!'

Then it came to her. Duh! She broke his bike, now she had to pay him back. She didn't have money, but she _did _have a pussy.

Sighing, the boy nodded. "Look, it's fine, really, I'm sorry I almost hit you." He bent over, righted the bike, and looked it over. He tried to push it forward, but the mangled tire wouldn't turn, and he sighed.

Liena watched him for a moment, her eyes roaming over his back, then she got to her feet. "No, it's mine, I should, like, be more careful. I'll pay you back."

He rested the bike against the wall and knelt. "It's fine," he said absently as he tried to unbend the rim with his bare hands. Sigh. He wasn't picking up on her hints! Maybe they were too subtle. Well...she'd just have to be _un_subtle. She got to her feet and went over. When her shadow fell across him, he twisted his head around and looked over his shoulder. She smiled and knelt down, her hand going to his shoulder and squeezing. His face crinkled in a cute expression of puzzlement. Liena leaned in until their nose were nearly touching; his breath puffed hotly against her lips, and a little shudder went down her spine. "Let me," she said, her head tilting, "pay you…" his eyes were wide and his jaw stood agape… "back." She molded her lips to his and flicked her tongue across his bottom lip; his sweet taste filled her mouth and her girlhood quivered.

Suddenly, he pulled back and fell onto his butt, his face a drawn mask of horror. Liena giggled. "Come on. There's a bush over there, we can go in and…" she trailed off and scooted closer, a mad grin touching her lips… "do things to each other."

The boy's head jerked from side-to-side. "N-N-No, that's o-o-okay, I'm, you're, I mean, it's fine, really, don't worry about it."

"But I _like _doing those things." She reached out, and the boy jumped to his feet. Liena frowned. What was wrong with him? She got up, and to her unending surprise, he started to power walk away.

Liena's jaw dropped...then snapped closed as her chances of becoming a mommy fled down the sidewalk. "Hey!" she said, and he threw a frightened glance over his shoulder. His dumb expression made her even madder. Didn't he realize that, like, her biological clock was ticking and stuff? "Come back here!"

He turned away and increased his speed.

Oh, no you don't. Liena started after him, her fists clenching. "Stop! Come back here and get me pregnant!"

At the word _pregnant, _he broke and ran like being a daddy was the worst thing in the world. He darted into traffic, and a car missed him by mere inches. Liena ran to the curb, her face red and her teeth grinding painfully. "Come back here! Put your baby in me!" He reached the other side and pounded down the sidewalk. Liena started across, but stopped: The stoppy hand was on, which meant she couldn't go. Ugh. Her one weakness.

Powerless to do anything else, she shook her fist and screamed. "COME BACK AND SHOOT YOUR BOY STUFF IN ME! I WANNA BE A MOMMY, GODDAMN IT!" Blocks away, he turned a corner and disappeared. Liena huffed and whipped around. Stupid boy, she was _glad _his bike was broken. She…

...realized everyone was staring at her; the butcher standing in front of his door, a broom in his hand; an old woman in glasses; the mailman; a woman holding a little girl's hand; a construction worker in an orange vest and a white hard hat; a woman in blue scrubs. Humph. "I guess I'll _never _be a mommy," Liena spat at them. Walking at an angry trot, she started toward school, tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

She just wanted to have a baby.

Was that too much to ask?

* * *

Lizy sat alone in her room, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around. She wore a long sleeve purple shirt under her normal black T to hide the cuts on her white flesh and a pair of pants to conceal the jagged wounds on her inner thighs. Her eyes were downcast and filled with tears, her lips were turned down in a sad frown, and her chest heaved up and down as she fought to keep from breaking down. She hugged herself tighter and hid her face from the world, her ugly, stupid, horrible face.

Leia was right; she was disgusting and worthless and her eye was gross. No one loved her and everyone thought she was a monster. Her mom never spent time with her, her dad never spent time with her...the only ones who spent time with her were Lyra and Liena, and they did it out of pity, just like Leia said.

She sighed and her tears began to fall, hot like acid against her cheeks. Why did she have to be so dumb and ugly? Why did she have to be a cyclops with frog fingers? WHY COULDN'T SHE BE NORMAL LIKE LEIA?

Flashing, she balled her fist and smashed herself in the temple. Pain filled her skull, but that didn't stop her; she did it again, and again, and again. Why are you so repulsive? Why are you such a freak?

Her head throbbed and her knuckles were covered in abrasions, but she didn't care. Her body was already disgusting, what more could she do to it? How can you disfigure what is already disfigured? How could she be any more hideous than she already was?

The answer: She couldn't.

She wiped tears away from her eyes and sniffed.

She was disgusting.

She was worthless.

_Do us a favor and die, _Leia said again and again, and Lizy tried, she really did; she took a knife from the kitchen last week and every night since as she laid in bed, she held the point against her heart, trying to summon the courage to sink it in but failing. Instead, she attacked her arms, and her legs, even her feet, carving her hated flesh, piercing her revolting body, bleeding herself as though she could purify herself...as though she could make her nightly dreams reality and wake in the morning pretty and whole, with a regular hand and a regular eye.

She _hated _her eye, she hated it with a fierce intensity that made her dizzy. She could never have a normal one...she knew that...but she'd rather have no eye than this one.

Swallowing her tears, Lizy reached over, opened the nightstand drawer, and took out the knife, the blade glinting in the cold light of the sun. She held it up to her face and studied her reflection. One flick is all it would take, one quick movement, and her horrible eye would be gone forever. She gripped the handle tightly, turned the knife until the tip was pointing at her face, then slowly, quiveringly, she brought it close...closer...her heart raced, her breathing quickened. The razor's edge filled the world, blotting out everything else. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, nothing but the task at hand.

The point was so close now it tickled her eyelashes. The back of her neck prickled.

_You're ugly...you're worthless...your eye is disgusting and everyone is sick of it looking at it._

Her hand froze.

One jerk. That's all. One...tiny...flick...of the wrist.

But she couldn't.

She just _couldn't._

Tears coursed down her cheeks in hot rivulets.

_You're a coward, _a voice said from the center of her head. It sounded like Leia.

"No I'm not," Lizy croaked miserably.

_Yes you are. You're gross and nasty and you're a chicken._

"No I'm not."

_You're horrible. Cyclops. One Eye. _

Lizy was weeping now.

_You're a big, fat, ugly, one eye chicken._

"NO I'M NOT!"

She plunged the knife deep into her eye.

And screamed.


	8. For Your Own Good

"_Goddamn it," _Lori growled, a touch of red anger coloring her cheeks.

She was standing over the trash can, the bag tied off and ready to disposal. When she went to take it out, the can moved and that's when she saw it, a haphazardly balled adult diaper lying on in the gap between it and the wall...the shit splashed, food splattered fucking wall that _she _was going to have to clean because Lincoln didnt help and all her sisters were sluts who cared more about their pussies than housekeeping...or raising their own children. She spun, went to the sink, and knelt, rummaging around underneath for a new bag. As she did this, she chewed her bottom lip and mentally cussed Lincoln up one side and down the other; he had a _bad _fucking habit or tossing Loan's diapers at the barrel and missing...then walking away because he didn't give a fuck. None of them did. If it weren't for her, they'd be wallowing in filth by now, wearing burlap sacks for dresses and Kleenex boxes for shoes.

_I should fucking leave, _she thought for the millionth time that week as she ripped a bag from a roll and got to her feet. _Take Loan and go. _

The thought of finally, finally being free, stirred her soul and made her feel giddy like she hadn't since she was seventeen and newly in love with her brother.

She could never do it, though, because even though they had all become self-centered assholes, she still loved her siblings. Oh, it was hard sometimes, but when she felt dark hatred bubbling up from the pit of her stomach, she would cast her mind back in time, to a day, an hour, a second long ago when she, her sisters, and her brother loved each other entirely, their hearts, souls, minds, and bodies completely and inextricably entwined. She remembered the first time Lincoln made love to her, the way he looked down into her eyes as he thrusted and claimed her virginity, the way he gasped her name - never had she heard Lori said so beautifully, before or since - the way he trembled against her when his orgasm rocketed from him and filled her womb, making her pregnant with his child. She remembered the first time she went down on Luan; the younger girl was sexually frustrated because she couldn't get herself off no matter what she did. Luckily, her big sis was there to make her cum so hard she cried, then to hold her and stroke her hair. She remembered Luna being so jealous of her and Lincoln that she decided to 'cheat' with each of them, coming to her first then going to Lincoln...little did she know, they both already planned to bring her into their harem.

The love and happiness she felt in that distant, sepia-toned time got her through many soul-crushing days...and kept her awake many nights. Where did it go wrong? What _happened? _She passed many sleepless hours trying to pinpoint the exact moment it all fell apart, and to this day she hadn't found it. She _thought _it began the day Lincoln ditched her - six months pregnant, in pain, and depressed because the doctors just gave them the news that Loan was going to be retarded - to go to the park with Lynn. She got so angry that she didn't speak to him for nearly a week; the wounded looks he gave her at dinner and in the hall made her want to speak to him even less. _You're hurt? So was I, Linc; you're supposed to be there for me. I'm carrying your baby and you left me to go fuck Lynn on the monkey bars. _

It occurred to her then that maybe their arrangement maybe wasn't such a good idea, a supposition that gradually solidified over the coming weeks as her sisters began to fight over Lincoln and each other. Jealousy crept in, and so too did animosity.

Things cooled down when Loan was born; her sisters fell immediately and happily into the role of attentive aunts. Leni got pregnant shortly thereafter, and then things kind of took off like the starship _Enterprise _going into warp speed. Before long, the house was filled with kids, everyone was stretched thin and short tempered, and certain sisters (coughLunaLuanandLynncough) realized that having kids meant concerts, comedy shows, and football games came second. Oh, they did _not _like that.

Lori tried to be charitable...they were young and wanted to live their lives, but when you have a baby, it should automatically become the most important thing in your world...hell, it should _become _your world. She was barely eighteen when Loan was born and she had her own hopes and dreams, but as she cradled her little girl in the hospital, staring down into her big brown eyes, she realized that none of her dreams could compare to _this_. _This _was her new dream.

But her bitch sisters? Nope. Right now, even as Lori threw the diaper into the empty bag and tied it off, Lola was off getting fucked by one of her three little boy friends, Luan was doing bad stand-up at an eight-year-old's birthday party, Luna was probably doing heroin with that creep Chunk, and everyone else...well, she didn't know. Lana was in the garage tinkering with the engine block of a 1978 Monte Carlo she bought from the junkyard for a hundred bucks last fall; she'd never fix the goddamn thing, but she went out there to get away from her life - and her responsibilities - the way Lincoln disappeared into his stupid little Ace Savvy fan fiction to get away from his.

Oh, Lisa was dead and Lucy was 'vampire hunting' in Transylvania. Uh-huh, sure, Luce, you going out there has _nothing _to do with that Alexandru guy you were talking to on Facebook. Fuckng slut. You know, there were times when she hated Lincoln so much it hurt, and there were days she wished he was never born, but one thing she would never do is cheat on him: She vowed herself to him - and only him - when she opened her legs for him and let him cum in he. Maybe that didn't mean shit to her whore sisters, but it did to her.

Sighing in frustration, she took the bag out of the can and carried it and the other out the back door and around the side of the house, her shoes crunching in a patch of snow from last week that hadn't melted yet. She ripped the lid off a metal can, threw the bag in, and replaced the lid with a clang. By the time she got back to the kitchen, she was shivering and her nipples pressed painfully against the inside of her bra. She hugged herself and crisply rubbed her arms.

What should she make for dinner? God, what did they _have? _Luna was supposed to go grocery shopping the other day but, hey, guess what, she didn't because of _c_ourse not. She went to the pantry and opened the door. The shelves were nearly bare, and in another day or two, there would be no _nearly _about it. Pursing her lips, she took out her phone, went to her contacts, and called Luna, her foot tapping impatiently and her nostrils flaring. She swore to God she'd kill this bitch if she didnt go shopping like she was fucking supposed to.

_Ring-ring-ring-ring._

Oh, you _better _answer, Luna.

_Ring-ring-ring._

Lori was just about to smash her phone against the floor in rage when there was a click, and Luna came on sounding out of breath. Loud rock music played in the background.

_That's the biggest black ass I've ever seen_

_And I like it, I like it_

_That's the biggest black ass I've ever seen_

_And I like it, I like it a lot_

"Hello?"

Lori took a deep, shivery breath. "Luna," she said tightly, "we are almost out of food. Are you going to go shopping or do I have to beg money off Lincoln and do that too?"

The only reply by a series of meaty slaps.

Hot rage swept through Lori like a prairie fire. "Get off the dick, you fucking slut, and go to the store, we need groceries."

Tense silence. "Fuck you, Lori," Luna panted "I'm s-sick you t-thinking…" her words turned into a series of groans as she came.

Lori held the phone away and glared at it. She was shaking and hot all over. When she spoke, her words were low and dripping with menace. "You better come through the front door with groceries or so help me God I'll beat your head in." She hit END and shoved the phone into her pocket. _I should leave...take Loan and go...I should leave...take Loan and go…_

At the pantry again, she selected a box of pasta and a jar of sauce. _The _box of pasta and _the _jar of sauce: There wasn't enough for everyone, so only the kids would be eating tonight. If she saw one fucking adult take so much as a single -

A sudden, blood-curdling shriek shattered the silence; Lori jumped, and the jar leapt from her hand It exploded against the floor like a bomb, thick red sauce and shards of glass splashing yellowed linoleum. _NO! _

The scream tapered off...then came again, higher and agonized. Lori didn't hear it, though; she stared dumbly down at the clotted mess, her heart racing and her stomach clutching. That was the only one...the only FUCKING ONE!

With a scream of her own, she reared back her foot and lashed out, kicking globs of sauce and pieces of glass against the wall. She kicked it again, and again, all of the rage she'd locked away over the years threatening to spill out of her. She spun, ripped the toaster from the counter, and flung it against the connecting door to the garage before she even realized what she was doing. It struck with a thump, and a savage sense of satisfaction went through her. She swept the coffeemaker off next; it went over the side and crashed to the ground with a tinkle of breaking glass. She was panting now like an enraged gorilla, her shoulders rising and falling and tears coursing down her cheeks.

She hated this place, she hated these people, she hated not having money and relying on Lincoln and her sisters, she hated being trapped, she hated cooking and cleaning and changing a twenty-one-year-old's diapers, she hated that Lincoln didn't love her anymore and she hated that she didn't love him..

...she hated her life.

Her hand fluttered to her forehead and she started to cry, her tears rushing from her in a bitter torrent. _I wish I was dead. I wish I died in childbirth. _She wept harder, leaning against the counter for support and folding her hands over her face to block out her miserable shit sack world. Why, God? She asked earnestly. Why me? Why us?

A memory flashed across her mind as if in answer; her on her back with her legs spread, her eleven-year-old brother rutting into her. _This is wrong, _she thought (in some iteration), _but I don't care._

That was why.

She uttered a harsh laugh through her tears. She died that day...she died and went to hell.

The screaming had stopped, and the only sound was her own ragged breathing. She better go see what it was about; she'd tell Lana to go since Lizy was _her _daughter, but Lana was just another MINO: Mom In Name Only.

Wiping her tears away, Lori went into the living room and crossed to the stairs, her hand falling on the bannister. She started to climb, going slowly to give herself time to cool off lest she yell at Lizy for making her drop the sauce. It was an accident, she didn't mean to, she doesn't deserve aunt Lori being a bitch to her. Save it for the ones who _really _deserve it.

At the head of the stairs, she turned left and went to Lizy's door, which was closed. "Liz?" she asked with a knock. She turned the handle and went in without being invited (the knock was a warning, not a request for admittance). Lizy sat up in her head, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking with the force of her weeping. Lori's step faltered, and she frowned slightly in concern. "Liz? You okay?"

The little girl made no reply save for a strangled sob.

"Lizy?" Lori started forward, but froze when her niece lifted her head. Her right eye was a jagged, gaping hole ringed by torn flesh. Blood and something else oozed down her cheek, dripping onto the front of her shirt. The something else was white and thick, like snot. When she realized it was the little girl's eye, her stomach turned.

Lizy's teeth brushed her bottom lip and she tried to speak, but whimpered in pain instead.

Lori noticed the knife then, clutched in her hand, the blade slick with red and white.

She screamed almost as loud as Lizy had.

* * *

On his lunch break, Lincoln sat in his car and drank one beer after another, finishing four in his allotted thirty minutes. When he got out to go back inside, his steps were heavy and unsure, amd he felt top heavy; one wrong move and he'd toppled over like a tree. He didn't usually drink at work, but he needed as much liquid courage as he could get; today was the day and if he didn't drown himself in funny juice, he'd never be able to go through with it.

Sitting at his desk, he went through the plan again and again, looking for holes he'd missed during past run throughs. His chest was tight, his stomach sick. He chewed a handful of Tums and rubbed his fevered temple.

His sisters, Lori especially, called him selfish. They said he only cared about getting his dick wet and whatever else, but that wasn't true. Hell, if it was would he be sitting her planning what he was planning? He was thinking of Lacy here, and their baby, not himself. In fact, he was shooting himself in the foot; Lacy was going to hate his guts for the rest of her life after today. You think he wanted that? No, he didn't, and if he was really the self-centered bastard his sisters made him out to be, he wouldn't do it.

The afternoon marched inexorably on, the minutes ticking by too quickly, each passing second pushing him closer to five...when he would shut down his computer, get into his car, and drive home, closer to the moment he...

He shut that thought down. No use dwelling on it.

At three, he grabbed a can of beer from his lunch box, went into the bathroom, and drank it while sitting in the farthest stall. He was almost done when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Anxiety rippled through his chest; every text was a complaint or an argument. None of them ever texted him to say _have a good day _or _hey, how about we order pizza? _It was always something negative, and he dreaded hearing his ringtone.

Sighing, he finished his beer, left the stall, and threw the empty into the can by the door. He'd check it later; he had so much shit on his shoulders already, he didn't need Lori harping on him because he dribbled piss on the rim or left crumbs on the counter.

Back at his desk, he tossed another handful of Tums into his mouth and navigated through the system, the harsh glow of the screen stinging his bleary eyes and giving him a headache. He needed to find a certain file, but -

His phone buzzed again.

He threw his head back and groaned. Why couldn't these bitches leave him alone? You know what? Fuck them. He didn't want to hear it. He pulled his phone out, put it on silent, and then returned it and went back to work, his eyes darting to the clock in the bottom right corner: 4:45. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen short minutes.

God, he wasn't ready for this.

He'd stop by the liquor store on the way home, he decided; the beer wasn't cutting it, he needed something stronger.

Selfish. Ha. He didn't see Lynn doing anything but bellyaching. _Oh, you got our daughter pregnant boo-hoo-hoo. _None of them ever did _anything_. Fucking bitches. If he was really selfish, he'd go home, get Lacy, and go. They could go to California, or Florida, or Mexico, hell, anywhere away from that dysfunctional house on Franklin. They could have their baby, it could be retarded, physically deformed, and miserable, but his, Lincoln's, life would be better so who cares, right? This is if he was selfish, after all, and selfish people don't give a fuck about others.

When he looked at the clock next, it was 5:01, and his stomach dropped.

It was time to go home.

He exited out of what he was working on (he didn't know if he saved, and he really didn't care), shut down his terminal, and pushed himself up from his chair. In the car, he started the engine, backed out, and pulled into the street behind a white police car with gold trim. If he was selfish, he'd commit suicide by cop and leave those fuckers to deal with their shit lives by themselves, but he wasn't. He fucking wasn't, no matter how many defective kids he shot into his sisters or his daughters, no matter how many times he spent his last ten bucks on beer rather than groceries, no matter anything...he stayed, he put up with shit from eight bitches, and he dealt with everything from retardation to schizophrenia. Selfish? Uh-huh. Sure.

Three blocks from home, he pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center anchored by a Meijer. He parked in a slot facing the street, got out, and went into Larry's Wines and Spirits. A Middle Eastern man stood behind the counter and blabbed into his phone in his native tongue. Probably plotting to blow something up.

In the back, Lincoln paused before a massive bank of shelves and scanned the bottles, his hands going to his hips. What did he want?

To die.

That's what.

Sighing, he grabbed a bottle of Canadian Mist at random and took it to the register, where Muhammad rang him up. Back in the car, Lincoln twisted the cap off with trembling fingers and took a long, deep pull, the whiskey burning his throat and detonating like a bomb in his stomach. He grimaced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He started to put the cap back on, but took another drink instead, then jammed the bottle between his legs. He started the engine, backed up, and started for home - ha, if home it could be called. He turned on the radio to drown out the dark thoughts swirling in his head..

By the time he pulled into the driveway, the alcohol was beginning to work its magic; the edges of his mind were dull and fuzzy and warm wool filled his chest. He tipped the bottle back and took one final pull.

His phone buzzed.

Goddamn it, he thought and hung his head. No rest for the wicked. He chuckled sardonically, reached into his pocket, and pulled his phone out. It wasn't until he looked at the screen that he realized how drunk he was; his head swayed back and forth and he could barely make out the words.

Lana: Lizy put her eye out. We're at the hospital.

Lincoln's brow furrowed. What?

Lana: Where are you? She's asking for you.

Put her eye out? He tried to compute and make sense of that, but he couldn't.

Lana: Fine, fuck you, bitch.

Whatever. He didn't have time for this shit. Lizy should have been more careful. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and got out; he nearly fell, but caught himself on the door. He went up the way, his steps wavering. Inside, Lupa and Liena were sitting on the couch watching TV. Lupa glanced up at him, and a dark shadow of hatred crossed her face. "Lizy's at the hospital. She -"

"I don't care," Lincoln slurred and pulled the door closed behind him. He ignored her ugly sneer and went into the kitchen. Lori was nowhere to be found. He started for the basement door, and something crunched underfoot. He looked down. Pasta sauce smattered with bits of broken glass was smeared across the floor. Nice. Skuzzy fucking people.

Shaking his head, he went into the basement, descended the stairs, and went to the shelf full of LIsa's chemicals. He found the jar of chloroform and picked it up, holding it close to his face and reading the label three times to make certain that he had the right one. He went back upstairs, grabbed a dish towel from the drawer next to the sink, and then passed through the living room. Lemy was on the couch now, flicking a lighter and grinning stupidly. REALLY? Lincoln's face contorted in rage. His hand shot out and he snatched a handful of the boy's hair, yanking as hard as he could. Lemy cried out and the lighter fell from his hand.

"NO FUCKING LIGHTERS!" he shouted into the boy's frightened face. He shoved him aside, reached over the back, and picked up the lighter. He stalked over to the patch of hardwood at the bottom of the stairs and smashed the damn thing against it as hard as it could: It exploded like a gunshot; vicious satisfaction flowed through him. He turned to the couch; Liena and Lemy both stared at him, Lemy with tears in his eyes and Liena with white faced fear. Lupa stared fixedly at the TV.

"No lighters," Lincoln repeated, then went up the steps. In his room, he sat the jar on the nightstand, went to the closet, and drew back the accordian door.

He instantly saw what he was looking for, and even in the haze of his drunkenness, his stomach clinched.

Could he really do this?

No. He couldn't...but he would.

He hardened his heart, grabbed the metal coat hanger, and sat on the foot of the bed. His hands shook as he bent it the way he'd read to. He held it in his hands for a long time, staring at it and wishing his own mother had done this to him. She didn't, though, she brought him into this sad, miserable fucking life. It was her fault, really. He hoped she had another stroke...and died this time.

Sighing, he got up, grabbed the jar, and went out into the hall, which stood empty and eerily silent. He crossed to Lacy's door, shoved the coat hanger into the back over his pants, and covered it with the tail of his shirt. He unscrewed the lid, splashed some of the chloroform onto the rag, and then returned the cap. He opened the door and peeked his head in. Lacy was lying flat on her back and snoring gently. The hem of her jersey had ridden up to reveal haf of her distended stomach. Before turning in for her afternoon nap - a habit she'd developed over the past month - she took her shorts off; from the waist down, she wore only her panties and a pair of white socks.

Lincoln swallowed hard and closed the door behind him, turning the lock with his thumb. He shuffled over to the bed, sat the jar on the floor, and sat heavily on the edge. Lacy stirred and muttered. Lincoln looked at her face and his heart ached. She was so beautiful...and he loved her. After this, though, he would lose her forever.

Her eyes fluttered open, muddled with sleep, and she turned her head. She saw him, and her face lit up. "Hi," she mumbled tiredly.

Lincoln tried to force a smile but couldn't. "Hi."

"What time is it?" she asked.

Time to do this.

He moved quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid; he twisted, clamped the rag over her mouth and nose, and shoved her head back into the pillow. She cried out and started to thrash. Lincoln turned, planted one knee into the bed, and pushed harder. She kicked and clawed at the back of his hand, her nails tearing his flesh. Slowly, the fight drained out of her, and her limbs fell still. He pulled the rag away; her eyelids were closed and fluttering, her lips slightly parted. Her chest expanded and contracted almost imperceptibly.

Moving mechanically, Lincoln scooted down, hooked his fingers into her panties, and yanked them off, pulling them over her ankles and tossing them away. Next, he spread her legs and positioned himself between them. He swayed and nearly fell over, but saved himself. He reached behind, curled his fingers around the coathanger, and drew it like a sword. It shook in his hand.

"Daddy?"

Lincoln's head whipped up. Lacy's eyes were half-lidded and filled with confusion, and her voice was thick, slurring. Damn it, he didn't use enough.

Screw it, he wanted this over ask quickly as possible.

He held the coathanger up, and when Lacy saw it, the fog in her eyes cleared. "W-What are you doing?"

"It's for your own good," he said and pushed her legs even farther apart.

"_What are you doing?" _Terror filled her voice.

"I'm taking the baby out," he said.

"_NO!"_

Lincoln hardened his heart even more against the plaintive note in his daughter's voice. He drew back a little and brought the hanger to her opening. She tried to close her legs, but the chloroform had made her limbs heavy if nothing else.

"_Please, Daddy, stop, please stop!" _She sobbed. Lincoln ignored her, pulled back his arm, and thrust the hook deep into her womb. She wailed and jerked. "_Stop, please, Daddy, please, I wanna have my baby! Stop!" _

Lincoln twisted his wrist, the point shredding the embryonic sack; clear liquid tinged with blood gushed out around the hanger. Lacy threw back her head and issued a wordless wail of misery. He felt the edge sink into something, and like an angler bringing in a prize trout, he yanked, bringing forth a tiny arm, it's fingers clutching and unclutching spasmodically. The prong of the hanger was hooked into its soft, bloody flesh. Lincoln ripped it out, sat it aside, and grabbed the hand, wrenching with gritted teeth; bones snapped as he dragged his child from his daughter's womb. Lacy howled and tossed her head back and forth. He could make out the word _my baby _and _our baby_ but that was it.

The fetus lay on the mattress in a pool of blood and fluid, its body curled and quivering, its thumb in its mouth as it sought comfort in its time of dying. Lincoln rolled it onto its back.

It was a boy.

Lincoln met its eyes which were open and filled with pain. _Why? _It seemed to ask, and hot shame filled him. Bearing down on his teeth, he wrapped his hand around its tiny neck and squeezed, bones snapping under his fingers. The baby's eyes widened slightly. Lacy wept lowly.

When the baby's eyes glazed with death, he let go, and its head detached from its body; it rolled off of the bed and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

There.

It was over.

Lincoln rudely shoved his daughter's legs out of the way and sat back against the wall. His face was white and his eyes were red, his hands covered in blood and filth. His heart was stil, though, and his mind was clear.

He aborted his child...his grandchild...and himself.

Lincoln Loud was dead.

The thing sitting on his daughter's bed was something else...a shell...a husk…

It was a long time before he got up, wrapped the baby in one of Lacy's shirts, and went out into the hall. She wept bitterly when he left her, moaning _my baby, my baby _over an over again. In the hall, he started for the stairs, but a voice stopped him. "Daddy!"

He turned and Leia bounced up to him wearing a smile. "Hi, Daddy. Why are you covered in blood?"

Something about the way she asked him, casually and without a trace of concern, as though someone being drenched in blood was the most normal thing in the world, disturbed him.

Instead of replying, he shoved the bundle into her arms. "Here, throw this in the trash...where it belongs." Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and went down the stairs, not caring about ichor on his hands and clothes.

Alone in the hall, Leia arched her brow. Ooookay. She pulled the shirt open...and her jaw dropped: A tiny severed head stared back at her, its eyes closed and its lips pressed together.

Then she grinned evilly,

Humming a happy tune, she skipped down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen, then out the back door. She pulled the lid off the trash can, laid the baby on top of a trash bag, and sat the lid back down. An idea struck her. She removed the lid once more, opened the shirt to reveal the itty bitty head...and spat in its face.

_I hope it hurt, _she thought as she went back inside.


	9. No Escape

Liena pressed the side of her brother's head to her breast and gently stroked his hair until his whimpers tapered off and his sniffles ceased.

They were on the couch, Lemy curled up in her lap like a giant, fire loving cat; one of his hands clung desperately to the front of her shirt. He put her in mind of a boy hanging onto a floaty thingie for dear life. Next to them, Lupa stared in the general direction of the television with her arms crossed and her brow darkly set. A few minutes ago, someone screamed from upstairs, the sound muffled and faint, and she was worried; she wouldn't put it past her father to do anything to anyone at this point, not with the crazed look in his eye when he came in from the kitchen. Lupa shuddered at the memory of his twisted features, and hated herself for it. A part of her wanted to go up there and see what was happening...but she was afraid to. God, help her, she was scared of him...a deep, aching fear that a little girl might feel for the monster in her closet, only closet monsters aren't real...Dad _was_.

Self-loathing flowed through her like battery acid, and her muscles twitched as that small but vocal part of her brain commanded them into action. She wasn't going up there; he might hit her again. Pathetic to be afraid of that, right? But she was, because the pain wasn't _just _physical, it was emotional too. She'd taken slaps and punches before, but Dad's hurt so much more than those.

Regardless, a thousand terrible images flashed through her mind, each a gruesome snapshot of what he could be (and probably _was_) doing, and Lupa's chest tightened. He could be up there murdering one of her sisters and here she was sitting on the couch and scared of Daddy hitting her. She was a loser, a pussy, a fucking lame-o.

Still, she made no move to get up.

"Daddy hurt Lemy's hair," Lemy moaned miserably.

Liena shushed him. "I know, honey. Dad's, like, _not _in a good mood tonight." She rocked him back and forth. "He's a grumpy gus."

Lemy sniffed wetly and snuggled deep into his sister's embrace. From the corner of her eye, Lupa watched his hand flutter to her breast; Liena giggled and pecked his forehead, her lips lingering just a little too long to be sisterly. Didn't they know how wrong this was? Didn't they...didn't they _feel _it? She understood how they were raised, but it didn't make sense; she was raised the same way and she could never bring herself to...do _that..._with one of them; it was an unease, a disgust, that was bone deep, pervasive, existing on a molecular level. People, and animals, are bestowed by God, nature, or the fucking Flying Spaghetti Monster, with inbreeding avoidance mechanisms whereby, through chemical cues, they find close conspecifics unsuitable for mating. The revulsion she felt toward the concept was innate, natural; it wasn't something she cultivated, it simply _was_. Did her siblings not have that? Did her father and mother and aunts not have it?

When Lemy pulled himself up and melded his lips to Liena's, his tongue slipping into her mouth and hers into his, Lupa started to get up, but froze at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Lemy yanked away from Liena, and they both looked looked up as Dad stumbled down the stairs, his hand gripping the bannister for support. He filled Lupa's periphery, and her heartbeat sped up; her bowels were suddenly loose and she felt like she was going to be sick. Lemy whimpered and buried his face into Liena's bosom like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand. Liena hugged him tightly, her face a bloodless mask of fear.

For a moment Dad stayed at the bottom of the stairs, his body swaying back and forth, then he let go and shambled over to his armchair. Lupa hazarded a glance, and her blood ran cold when she saw the red on his hands and smeared across the front of his shirt. He dropped into the chair and flopped his head back with an angry exhalation.

A tingle of terror crept down the back of Lupa's neck.

What did he do?

Dear, God, what did he do?

She was so focused on him that she didn't notice Leia skipping past with something in her arms, didn't notice her own breathing increasing, didn't notice the tears streaming down Lemy's face.

He killed someone.

He…

It hit her then.

Lacy.

He did something to Lacy.

Her stomach lurched sickly, and she grabbed her crutches and got to her feet without even realizing she was acting; her fear was forgotten, replaced by panic. Dad didn't try to stop her as she hobbled to the bottom step; he stared sightlessly at the wall, his chest rapidly rising and falling. Lupa forced herself to go slowly even though she wanted to bolt. She was hyperventilating when she reached the top, and fet uncharacteristically shaky, as though she were moments from breaking down. She hobbled to her door and turned the knob, shoving it open and going in

What she saw froze her in place. Lacy was curled up on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest and her body shaking; broken, miserable sobs rose from her strained throat. Her pale brown hair was matted with sweat and plastered to her forehead, and what Lupa could see of her face was flushed deep red. Her eye flicked down, and she saw the blood on the sheets. A metal coat hanger bent into a J lay in a pool of gore-and-god-knows-what, and a jar filled with clear liquid sat on the floor next to a rag. The stench of hot, coppery blood mingled with an odor Lupa had never smelled before...a foul, musky, sickly-sweet fetor redolent of crotch and insides.

Hot bile rushed up from Lupa's stomach, and she was powerless to stop it; she turned her head and splattered the carpet with such force that he vision grayed and her temples throbbed. She wobbled and nearly fell, but caught herself at the last minute. Lacy sobbed openly now, and Lupa started for her, but threw her head to the side and puked again.

It was clear what happened...what that fucking monster did…

When she was sure she wasn't going to vomit again, Lupa went over to her sister's bed and sat, setting her crutches in the gap between the mattress and the nightstand before turning. Lacy's eyes were squeezed shut and fat tears dripped down her wan flesh. Lupa reached out to touch her shoulder but hesitated when she spoke, her voice a thick, hitching moan. "He killed my baby." She cried harder and hugged her pillow to her chest. "He killed it." Her voice broke. "I didn't even get to hold it."

Tears filled Lupa's eyes, and she clamped her quivering lips shut. Lacy trembled and tried to speak, but her words came out as a strangled sob. She closed her eyes, and her face screwed up in an expression of anguish. Lupa laid her hand on her shoulder and squeezed as if to transfer some of her own strength into her sister's grief stricken body. She had very little to give, though; she felt so lost in that moment that it was all she could do to keep from breaking down herself. Her eyes fell onto the coathanger; blood and chunks of god only knew what glazed the jagged hook. Lupa's stomach clenched and for a moment she thought she was going to puke again.

That...thing was in her sister, searching, tearing, wrenching her child from the depths of her womb...and their father was at the helm.

Bitter hatred filled her, and she let go of Lacy lest she dig her fingers into her flesh. How could he do this? How could he shove a sharp fucking instrument of death into his daughter and then rip her baby - _his baby - _out like it was nothing more than a clot of hair in a drain? How could anyone do that? How could they look into the eyes of a fetus as it dies? Mass of cells my ass, Lacy's baby was far enough along to have arms, legs, and a face. That's a fucking human being in her book, and what happened here was murder...plain and simple.

Her hand curled into a fist of hatred, and she took a deep, shaky breath through clenched teeth, then let it out through her nose. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to beat him in his head until his brain seeped out of his ears, she wanted to make him pay for what he did...but the worst thing of all was this: She couldn't. She was weak...she couldn't even fucking walk.

Lacy cried silently now, her eyes closed and her mouth opened wide in pain. Lupa sighed deeply. She couldn't avenge her sister...she couldn't even comfort her; what do you _say _at a time like this?

She didn't know.

She felt so lost and scared that it made her sick.

"Let's change your sheets," she finally managed. Her voice was dazed, and her eyes were wet. She grabbed her crutches, got to her feet, and lurched to the closet. Behind her, Lacy whimpered, and Lupa blinked her eyes. _I'm sorry, _she thought earnestly, _I'm sorry I'm not a better sister. _

She opened the door and scanned the shelf, spotting a pink fitted sheet and a normal sheet folded on top of it. She leaned one crutch against the wall, reached, her balance wavering, and grabbed them, then turned, her eyes instinctively darting away from the prostrate form on the bed. She went over and laid the sheets on Lacy's nightstand. Lacy held her pillow and wept into it. "I-I know it's hard, but you have to get up. I need to change your sheets."

For a moment Lacy didn't move, then she rolled over and slipped out of bed, dropping to the floor in a heap. Lupa caught a flash of her sister's naked sex and wished she hadn't; blood crusted the insides of her thighs and more oozed from her vagina. From the looks of it, Dad ripped her walls to shreds. "Do you hurt?" Lupa asked as she pulled the old sheets off with one arm, "physically?"

Lacy nodded.

Lupa sighed. She probably needed stitches.

If Dad would let her go to the hospital.

Something told Lupa he wouldn't.

When the sheets were changed to the best of her ability (they looked like shit but they were clean at least), Lupa pulled out her phone and sat down as Lacy crawled back into bed and curled up. She absently stroked her sister's hair as she texted aunt Lynn, her heart twinging just a little in fear of what her father might do to her for this; ultimately, though, she didn't care.

_Dad aborted Lacy's baby with a coat hanger. She needs to go to the hospital. Now._

* * *

Liena hummed happily to herself as she ran her fingers through her brother's matted hair; Dad stumbed upstairs a few minutes ago, falling and slurring cuss words, and for Liena it was out of sight, out of mind...he was long forgotten and so was what he did to Lemy. Currently, the little boy was curled up asleep with his head resting in her lap, his mouth hanging open and warm drool trickling down onto her shorts. The heat of his closeness and the pressure of his face pushing against her girl parts was making her horny and she was _thiiiiis _close to waking him up for a little brother/sister time, but he was so _adorable_ that she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She sighed contentedly and leaned her head back against the backrest. She was still kind of sad she didn't have a baby in her belly, but, like, sometimes you have to face facts and suck it up: She would never be a Mommy and that made her heart frown...she had lots of love and affection to give. On the flipside, she had a bunch of little siblings who liked love and affection too, and if she squinted hard enough, maybe they, like, could be her babies.

Not-really-her-babies were better than no babies, right?

Right.

She swirled a lock of Lemy's hair around her index finger and stared absently at the TV, where Lester Holt was reading the nightly news on NBC. She didn't like the news; it was always so sad. Like, nothing good ever happened on the news, it was always 'this person blew up these people' and 'this guy shot up that building.' Why don't they ever have happy on the news? They needed better writers and different storylines.

Lemy stirred and snuggled closer. Liena smiled and caressed his forehead. Mommy's little angel. She shifted, and realized something: Mommy had to pee _really _bad.

This was not good. Lemy was using her as a pillow but she wasn't a pillow, she was a person...a person who had to use the bathroom. She didn't want to wake him, but she also didn't want to pee on him...she _never _peed on anyone unless they gave her permission. Some people, apparently, don't like that kind of thing. Who knew?

Being very careful and moving at the speed of, like, something really slow, she scooted out from under Lemy's head, slipping her hand underneath and gently resting it on the cushion. He stirred again, but didn't wake, and standing over him, Liena smiled proudly to herself. Good job, Mommy, you did it.

She patted herself on the back as she went up the stairs. In the bathroom, she peed, washed her hands, and considered taking a shower, but rejected it; she was really tired in the morning, but she liked meeting her day freshly bathed...just in case she met a new friend (wink-wink). In the hallway, she started toward the stairs, but stopped at Lacy's door; the sound of soft weeping drifted forth, and Liena's brow pinched.

Was everything okay? If she wanted to be a good Mommy, she had to stay on top of things like this. She went to the door, laid her hand on the knob, and rapped. "Hello?" She turned the knob (because Mommies knock only as, like, a warning) and poked her head in: Lacy and Lupa were snuggled on Lacy's bed, Lupa playing big spoon with one arm draped protectively over her sister's frame. She lifted her head, and Liena was surprised by her red, puffy eyes; tears shimmered in them, and one lone bead ran down her cheek.

"What's wrong?" Liena asked, suddenly worried.

Lupa wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Nothing," she said, "just...leave us alone, please."

Liena looked from Lupa to Lacy; the latter shook as though she were crying. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just go away."

For a moment Liena didn't move. Lupa said nothing was wrong, but she and Lacy were both crying, which meant something _had _to be wrong. People don't, like, cry for no reason: They have to be really happy or really sad, and Lupa did _not _look really happy, so therefore she must be really sad, and that was a problem. Mommies don't let problems go, they fix them. "Something's wrong," she said, "and I…"

"_GO THE FUCK AWAY!"_

Liena yelped and jumped back, pulling the door closed with her.

She failed.

She was no Mommy at all.

Head hung in shame, she went down the stairs. At the bottom, it occurred to her to go back and assert herself. _Do not speak to me that way, young lady, I'm, like, your mother now and you will respect me. _Lupa looked really mad, though, and even though Lupa was a little girl and she, Liena, was a grown up, Lupa kind of scared her sometimes. Sigh. What kind of Mommy is scare of her own daughter? And what kind of Mommy lets her daughter cuss at her?

No kind, that's what.

She trudged aimlessly through the living room and went into the kitchen. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for motherhood...or even big sisterhood. Something crunched underfoot, and she stepped back: Dried red stuff and broken glass covered the floor, and...was that the coffeemaker? She frowned and picked it up by the cord as though it were a pair of yucky underwear. Well..._this _shouldn't be here, it should, like, be in the trash. She took it over and was about to drop it into the can but stopped. Duh. A good Mommy wouldn't do that, she'd throw it into the can outside….then she'd sweep up the broken glass and wash the red stuff off the floor.

Then she'd pick the toaster up from by the garage door. Why was all this stuff on the floor anyway? It didn't make any sense.

She carried the coffeemaker out the back door and shivered as a cold gust of wind blew over her, raking the bare flesh of her arms with goosebumps. Oooooh, it's freezing! She rushed around the side of the house and came to the trash can, another breeze blowing her blonde hair to the side and messing it up. Please don't do that, my hair, like, takes a long time to get pretty. She lifted the lid, and her heart stopped.

A little face was staring at her from the folds of a shirt.

A horrified scream bubbled up in her throat, but dissipated as she realized it wasn't a monster or anything.

It was a baby.

She tilted her head in confusion. Why is there a dead baby in our trash can?

Wait a minute…

An idea stuck her, and she beamed with excitement. She reached in, picked the bundle up, and brought it to her chest; the baby's head fell to the ground with a thud, and she blinked. Oh. She checked to make sure the body was here (it was), then squatted down and picked the head back up, tucking it gently it into the shirt. It's okay, little baby, Mommy won't drop you ever again, I promise.

She went inside, her plans to clean the kitchen completely forgotten in her joy. I think I'll call you..she paused, unfolded the shirt, and checked between its legs...Logan.

There's a saying: Beggars can't be choosers.

And a dead baby is better than _no _baby.

Right?

Right.

* * *

Once a week, Lynn Loud stopped by her friend Amber Paulson's house on her way home from work.

They had known each other since middle school, and were very close. So close, in fact, that Lynn knew what her vagina tasted like.

They were lovers, in other words, and had been since eighth grade. Back then, Lynn was certain that she was gay...she had only ever been attracted to girls and enjoyed stereotypically masculine pursuits. It wasn't until hers and Lincoln's first kiss that she realized she was bi; she loved a good pounding, but she also enjoyed the warmth and softness of a woman. It was like...ice cream and pizza. Two totally different things, but both great in their own way.

Lincoln knew about Amber and didn't seem to mind, though Lynn _knew _it ate him up inside. God, the first time Luna cheated on him he went to pieces. _Boo-hoo-hoo, why? _Really, dude, it's okay for you to fuck eight other women but _we c_an't be with anyone but you? What kind of shit is that? That's one of the things that always pissed her off about Lincoln; he acted like they should be slavishly devoted to him and him alone while he fucked them...and Ronnie Anne. Yeah, buddy, betcha didn't think I knew about _that_. You know what, though? I don't give a fuck. Keep doing it. _I _don't care if you see other people. I'm used to it. You see Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, and everyone else; I've known for years that I'm not your only and that you'd never be able to commit to me. Or to anyone else, for that matter. You doing Ronnie Anne is just another day at the office, buddy.

She had to wonder, though: Did any of Ronnie Anne's four kids belong to him? She was married to a guy (John? James? Jimbo? Something like that) and the boys looked just like him, but the girls...from what she'd seen, didn't. At all. One had really pale black hair, almost like her father's hair was...white…

Whatever, just as long as Ronnie kept them at her house and didn't go after Linc for child support. We got no room and no money, fuck off.

Presently, Lynn rolled onto her side and propped her elbow on the mattress. Amber lay beside her, the sheet pulled to the bottom of her perky breasts. Her soft, angular face was flushed with exertion and a sheen of sweat stood on her forehead. Her dirty blonde hair, fanned out around her head, was tangled and messy...just the way Lynn liked it. She cupped one of Amber's tits and squeezed. "Honk."

Their eyes locked...and they both burst out laughing. "You're a fucking dork, Loud," Amber said and rubbed the side of her nose with her thumb.

Lynn shrugged. "You bring that out in me."

Did that sound too sappy? God, it did, didn't it? Fucking stupid. Why did she always do this around Amber? She was like a dumb giddy school girl or something, and she kind of hated herself for it. _Oh, my beating heart, my fluttery stomach..._gross. Like one of those gay ass Harlequin paperbacks her mom used to read.

But you know...Amber _did _make her feel that way, and always had.

Lynn wasn't stupid...she knew she was in love with her, but they couldn't be together; Amber was married with a daughter, and unlike Lynn, she genuinely loved the guy she was with…which meant she wasn't leaving him any time soon.

That was okay, though. Lynn was happy with just this.

Yep. Heh. Perfectly happy holding the woman she loved but never _having _her. She didn't cry sometimes, and she sure as hell never found herself wishing she never got with Lincoln...or had Lacy…

If it weren't for them, she thought bitterly, and Amber's punk ass husband…

No, it was best not to think about it, because if she thought about it, she'd go to a really dark place, and her life was dark enough already without crying into her pillow and silently wishing her family dead. She snuggled next to Amber and laid her hand over the other woman's heart, the feeling of its strong, steady beat calming her as it always did. "What time is it?" Amber asked.

"I don't know," Lynn said. She reached for her phone on the nightstand and picked it up.

She had a text from Lupa.

Her crap life trying to worm its way into her happy place. She ignored it and checked the time. "Seven-fifteen."

Amber sighed. "I have to get up."

Lynn knew...she knew all too well; the sun must set on every perfect day, and every warm fire must turn to ash. She shoved her disappointment as far down in her chest as she could so that Amber wouldn't see and sat up. "I gotta get going too," she lied.

Amber reached out and slipped a Kool from the pack on the nightstand. She plopped the filter into her mouth and lit it, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs and then blowing it out in a sharp plume. "You wanna hang this weekend? Brett's taking Amanda to the his mother's house so...I'll be free." She looked up at Lynn with a suggestive grin that made her heart skip a beat. Uh, yes, please!

"I don't know," Lynn said, playing it cool, "I'll give it some thought."

Taking another drag, Amber shrugged one shoulder. "Don't worry if you don't. I'll just call Luna over."

"Do it and die, Paulson," Lynn said playfully.

Fifteen minutes later, Lynn sat in the driver seat of her 1998 Intrepid and gloweried at the rundown shithole prison that masqueraded as her home, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. The moment she left the warm embrace of her lover, Lynn's mood darkened; a tight ball of anger throbbed in the middle of her chest and tears she wasn't fully aware of stood in her eyes.

She didn't want to be here.

She hated this place.

If she had balls, she'd turn this piece of shit around, go back to Amber's house, and profess her love; they could leave their families behind and run away together...make a new family, a happy family. Only...for all her bravado, Lynn Loud Jr. didn't have balls; she was a gutless fucking pussy who was _maybe _a little insecure. Or maybe she wasn't. She didn't know, she wasn't a shrink. She didn't like bearing her emotions. It made her feel naked...and vulnerable, like a snail without its shell. She tried in the past to tell Amber how she felt, but she chickened out every time. See? Clinical pussy. Case closed.

Not that Amber would say yes if Lynn _wasn't_ a pussy. She loved her family. It was like...you know, they were her meal and Lynn was just a snack...a quick, empty, meaningless bag of fucking peanuts or something. That hurt so much because Amber was...well...Amber was her world.

She sighed.

No, _this _was her world: Being miserable with her dick brother and her cunt sisters.

Feeling heavy and cold, she got out and shut the door. She started up the walk but stopped when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Her hope soared, and she took it out, hoping it was a text from Amber. _Hey, Loud, let's elope. _She knew it wouldn't be, and it wasn't.

It was from Lupa.

_Where are you? Please answer. _

Lynn rolled her eyes. What the hell does this bitch want? She scrolled up and read the text she ignored at Amber's, and her stomach clutched.

Jamming her phone back into her pocket, she went up the steps and through the front door. Lemy was nestled on the couch asleep. She ignored him as she pounded up the stairs and went to Lincoln's room: The door was shut and loud music drifted out. Smooch. He _always _listened to Smooch when he was drunk. Fucking loser.

She balled her fist and pounded. "Lincoln!"

The music died and Lincoln called out, his voice thick and slurred. "What?"

"Open the door."

She drew back and crossed her arms, her foot tapping impatiently. The door opened and Lincoln stuck his head out; his eyes were red and bleary and his shirt was covered in Lynn-didn't-want-to-know. "What?" he asked sharply.

He made her sick; can you believe that once, long ago, she was in love with him? This sad, pathetic, fucking smelly drunk once dominated her dreams and ruled her every waking thought. She fought her sisters tooth and nail to have time with him, and on nights he slept in her bed, she held him so tight he could barely breathe because for that brief time, he was hers and hers alone, and she was _not _going to let him go.

Yuck.

"Did you do it?" she asked.

He stared dumbly for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I did it."

"Good," she said. She put her hand on the frame and leaned in until her nose was almost touching his. The stomach-turning reek of alcohol filled her nostrils. "Now stay away from her."

Lincoln's face darkened. "Fuck you."

"I mean it," Lynn snarled, "don't touch my daughter again."

Lincoln reached out and tried to grab her, but she anticipated this: She shot out her arms and shoved him back. Unsteady from the booze, he lost his balance and fell against the bed in a clumsy heap. "Bitch," he muttered.

"You make me sick," Lynn said distastefully. Before he could reply, she turned and left him. At Lacy's door, she turned the knob and went in without knocking; Lupa and Lacy were clinging to each other on Lacy's bed, bloody sheets, a metal coat hanger, and a jar of chloroform from Lisa's lab strewn across the floor. Typical: He didn't even clean up after himself.

Lupa lifted her head, and a flicker of relief crossed her face. "She's not bleeding anymore, but I think she needs stitches. I -"

Lynn held up her hand."Can you give us a minute alone, please? I need to talk to her."

Lupa blinked in confusion, then nodded. "O-Okay." She grabbed her crtutches from the space between the mattress and the nightstand, got heavily to her feet, and ambled past, stealing an uncertain look at Lynn as she did. When she was gone and the door was closed, Lynn sighed, crossed to her daughter's bed, and sat. Lacy was curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest and her tearful eyes aimed at the wall. She was naked from the waist down save for a pair of socks, and her creamy flesh was caked with dried blood. Fresh blood, thick and deep red, almost black, stained the sheet.

The little girl sniffed. "He killed my baby," she said, her voice a soulless croak. She squeezed her eyes shut against a rush of tears.

Lynn scrunched her lips to the side and fought to keep from snapping: She looked so much like her bastard of a father...same shape face, same mouth, same eyes that at times like this, Lynn felt a pang of disgust. "It wasn't a baby, Lacy," she said, her tone strained, "it was a fetus and a fetus is not a person."

Lacy broke down crying, and Lynn stiffened.

Deep breath.

"Plus, if it was born, it would have a lot of things wrong with it. Your father did you _and _that child a hell of a favor."

Lacy wept harder. "I wanted my baby," she blubbered. "I really wanted it, Mom...I loved it."

Maybe it was because she hated her life...maybe it was because she ached for someone she could never have...and maybe it was shame...but Lynn exploded. "You know how selfish you sound right now? That baby would have had a shit fucking life, and you don't care. You're a self-centered little bitch just like your father. You don't give a flying fuck about anyone but _you_. I wish your father did for - "

Lynn cut herself off.

She seethed with rage - rage at Lincoln, rage at the situation, rage at everything - but even in that red haze she realized that saying _I wish your father did for me what he did for you _was going too far.

Lacy sobbed hysterically, her shoulders shaking. God help her, Lynn was reminded of a quivering slug.

_I can't deal with this right now._

She got up and went to the door, laying her hand on the knob then stopping and looking over her shoulder. Lacy moaned and hugged her pillow like a child with a stuffed animal. "You need to buck up, girl. Life sucks." She tried to stop herself, but couldn't. "You shouldn't have fucked your father. This is what you get." She opened the door, and Lupa was there, her brow knitted and her eyes simmering with anger. Lynn's eyes narrowed.

Say something, bitch...I dare you...give me a reason.

They faced each other for a moment...then Lynn brushed roughly past her, nearly knocking her down.

"Move," she said.

* * *

Lori Loud opened the front door to find her nephew asleep on the couch, the TV playing in the background. Normally, finding the television on and unwatched would irritate her...come on, turn it off, electricity doesn't grow on trees...but tonight she didn't even register it.

She shut the door and locked it, then crossed the living room and climbed the stairs, her hand trailing on the banister. She tried hard to ignore the droplets of dried blood on the carpet from when she carried Lizy down, but her eyes were drawn to them like metal to a magnet, and she flashed back to the little girl's gaping, bloody eye socket...to the way her ruined eye slid down her cheek like a wad of snot...and to the small, broken way she asked for Daddy as the doctors worked on her.

At the head of the stairs, she paused and took a deep breath. She wasn't going to confront him...she wasn't going to call him names...she was just going to tell him what happened and what the doctors said: Her eye was beyond repair, but she didn't hit her brain, thank God. They were going to keep her for a few days and then probably for a few more after that on the psyche ward. She was extremely lucky that the knife didn't skewer her frontal lobe; if it did, she would have either died or suffered brain damage.

Would he really care, though? Lana texted him and he couldn't even be bothered to respond. To be honest, that really bothered her...like to the point where she literally didn't have the energy to fight him; she just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

Lincoln's door stood open, and when she poked her head in, she saw him lying at the foot of his bed. He snored deeply.

Nice. While his daughter was in the hospital he was here drinking liquor. She couldn't suppress a hateful sneer. "Lincoln," she said venomously.

He snorted.

"_Lincoln!"_

His eyes fluttered open; they were wet and pooled with intoxicated bewilderment. She should kick him...walk right up to him and kick him square in his stupid nose. "Did you get Lana's texts?" she asked, her arms folding sternly over her chest.

Blinking, Lincoln rolled away from her and brought his knees to his chest.

Lori bit her lower lip. "Lizy stabbed herself in the eye this afternoon. On purpose. She said it was ugly and she didn't want it anymore."

No reply.

"It's gone. They're keeping her, and she's probably going to spend time on the psych ward. Lana's with her n -"

"Leave me alone," Lincoln slurred. "Tell me in the morning."

Fire filled Lori's chest. She started to reply, to call him a piece of shit and a fucking bastard, but she stopped herself. "Fine," she said.

Still fuming, she went to Loan and Liena's room and checked on them: Loan was asleep and Liena sat in the middle of her bed smiling at and holding a baby doll in a blue onesie. Thick black duct tape was wound around its neck. "Mommy's little Logan," she cooed and bounced it in her lap: The head came off and landed on the bed. Liena frowned. "You're not supposed to do that, Lo-Lo. Mommy _told _you."

Leaving her niece to her play, Lori went downstairs and sank onto the couch next to Lemy. She stared at the TV, but she didn't see what was on the screen, she saw Lizy's face...and something told her she would see it again tonight in her darkest dreams.

_There's no getting away, _she thought and laughed harshly, _awake...asleep...it's all the same._

Hell.

She was in hell.

And she would never escape.


	10. Down the Rabbit Hole

**I always feel like somebody's watching me.**

**And I have no privacy.**

**I always feel like somebody's watching me.**

**Tell me is it just a dream?**

**Rockwell (Somebody's Watching Me, 1984)**

_Uppity little bitch, _Lincoln thought and took a pull from the half empty bottle of whiskey. It was piss warm, burned his throat, and made his eyes water, but he didn't care. It was better than being sober. At least he thought; he hadn't been sober since the day he aborted Lacy's baby...a week ago? A week and a half? So long, at any rate, that he couldn't remember what sobriety was like beyond that it sucked.

Just like everything in his life.

He was currently sitting in his chair and glowering at the TV, his brows knitted heavily. On the screen, a girl that looked a lot like Lupa with black hair sat across from Steve Wilkos, tears standing in her eyes. The white text at the bottom read: _My Abuse Story. _Her parents died when she was little and her religious zealot grandparents raised her, punishing her for the tiniest infraction by beating her with a switch or locking her in a closet to pray for Christ's forgiveness. That's the gist he got, but he wasn't listening...he was watching, his chest tight with rage. _You're a child molester, _she said, _get out of my room, pedophile_. He took another drink and swallowed hard.

Lupa had always been a stuck-up little cunt. She thought she was too good for him, too good for her oh-so-terrible life. _Wah-wah-wah, my legs, wah-wah-wah abyss. _She was just like her fucking mother; Lucy had an idyllic childhood, yet she _moped_. Calamity, depression, woe unto me! Black hair, black clothes, no one understands me! That shit always annoyed him, but it was only when he was older than he realized just how insulting and self-centered it was. How did Mom and Dad put up with her without getting physical or kicking her out? _Don't like your life, leave. _Lupa was the same. She had food, shelter, and all the things she wanted (luckily the little slut was cheap, unlike her bitch sisters). Still...she dragged herself around like a Jew at Auschwitz or something. _My life is so miserable...it's not worth living, let me cut myself. _

She didn't think anyone knew, but Lacy did, and she told him about it once. It disturbed him greatly...because he was doing his level best here, and she didn't appreciate it. None of them did, but Lupa most. She wouldn't even fuck him. When he first brought the possibility up when she was ten, she looked at him with such disgust he shrank back. _Only if you want to, _he said quickly. That was the deal he made with all the others (except Loan, Lemy, and Liby), and none of them had ever said no. Liby, but he could understand - she was so fucking retarded she might as well be a baby. Lupa wasn't stupid - she was intelligent, very intelligent - like him. She knew what she was doing; she just thought she was better than him.

Humph. Little tramp. She was probably getting it from some boy at school. A vision of her and a faceless kid naked and sweaty in the janitor's closet, their bodies pressed together and her eyes hazed with lust, danced mockingly through his head, and he felt himself stir. Little Miss I-Hate-My-Daddy. Fuck her. Fuck all of them. He worked his motherfucking ass off to provide for these pieces of shit and how did they thank him? By ignoring him. The only one who'd spoken to him since last week was Leia; he'd taken to sleeping in her room every night because she was all he had now, the only one who paid him attention, the only one who still followed him. She was a good girl; in fact, she was the only one of his children still worthy of his love. Loan, Liena, Lyra, Liby, Lupa, Lacy, Lemy, Lizy, and Lulu didn't deserve him, they deserved their whore mothers. They were all just like them anyway, Lacy with her sports and Lyra with her music. You notice that? They looked like their mothers, they did the same things - how do you think that made _him _feel? Why didn't any of them do shit _he _liked?

Fuckers probably weren't even his. Leia was, but her siblings? No, you know what? They _weren't_, even if they were. They wanted to be like their moms so fucking much, they could have them. He was trash as far as they were concerned and always had been...fine, they were trash too, Loan shitting on herself and Lizy walking around with that creepy fucking eye. She was coming home today, and Lincoln was not looking forward to having her back. He wished they kept her, along with her skitzo fucking sister.

He was fuming now. He lifted the bottle to his lips, but froze when Lori spoke behind him. "Have you checked on Lacy lately?"

"No," he said distastefully and took a long drink.

Lori sighed in disgust.

"She's twelve fucking years old," Lincoln spat, "she doesn't need Daddy checking on her every five fucking minutes."

Since the abortion, Lacy had hardly gotten out of bed, and every time he walked by her room he heard the sound of soft sobbing. She didn't eat, hadn't been to school in days (Lynn made up a story about an illness or something to appease them), and every time she saw him she shook like a frightened little chihuahua; that last one made him so mad that keeping from hitting her took Herculean effort. _Oh, I'm so scared of Dad because he aborted my fucked up, retarded-and-physically-deformed piece of shit baby. _Wow, what an asshole, right? He spared her the bullshit he had to deal with, and she didn't even thank him.

Yeah, none of these cunts (and that fag Lemy) appreciated him. He hated them all so fucking much he felt sick - literally sick.

With a snooty little huff, Lori went upstairs and left him alone. It was her fault when you got right down to it, her fault he was here, her fault their sisters were here, and her fault all these fucked up kids existed in the first place; he couldn't remember who kissed who first as they cuddled on the couch - maybe it was a mutual explosion of passion - but he was fucking eleven, a dumb shit kid. She was seventeen...practically an adult. She shouldn't have kissed him...she should have shut that shit down, but noooo, she spread her legs and let him finger her, her head thrown back and her teeth brushing her bottom lip. _Faster, Linc...I'm close_. Then she took him upstairs and raped him...fucked his goddamn cum right out of his balls and into her womb, where Loan festered for nine months before slithering out and 'tarding things up.

Did she do this on purpose? He bet she did. Hateful, spiteful bitch. Bobby broke up with her for Carol Pingrey and when she got home she looked around and said _I'm going to make them as unhappy as I am._

Mission accomplished, Lori. Mission fucking accomplished.

He finished off the bottle and sat it on the end table just as the front door opened. He glanced over with hate filled eyes that narrowed to reptilian slits when he saw Lupa; she hobbled in after Leia, who smiled brightly. "Hi, Daddy!"

Lincoln's glare thawed just enough for him to smile back, albeit tightly. "Hi, honey."

The little girl came over and crawled into his lap, intentionally squeezing his crotch as she righted herself. "Oops," she drew with a sly grin, "sorry."

Lincoln forced a smile and kissed her forehead. "That's okay. It was an accident."

No, it wasn't. She'd been pestering him for sex ever since the day he aborted Lacy's baby, but he hadn't been in the mood, though he did go down on her the other night to shut her up. Presently she tilted her head to the side and met his lips with hers; he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her deeply

Lupa rolled her eyes and made her way up the stairs. In her room, she found Lacy lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, her eyes vacant. "Hey," Lupa said, and it took a lot of effort to keep her voice even and casual, "how're you doing?"

She dropped onto the edge of her sister's bed and sat her crutches aside, then twisted around to face her. "Fine," Lacy said and sighed.

A frown touched Lupa's lips. That was a lie, she was _not _fine. She was better than she was, but she still wasn't what Lupa would call 'fine.' She was severely depressed - Lupa had a lot of experience with depression, so she recognized it for what it was even if aunt Lynn and Dad called it 'moping.' She could barely bring herself to get out of bed, slept far more than was healthy, and spent most of every night crying into her pillow.

She refused to talk to Lupa about what happened...all she'd gotten in the past week was, "I wanna forget it happened."

But she couldn't; it consumed her...ate her...nested in her heart like cancer.

The same way it did with Lupa.

She tried not to dwell on it, but she was weak, and she did; as she lay awake at night staring into the gloom and listening to her sister cry; as she sat at the tale and fought not to look at her disgusting filth of a father; when she passed young mothers on the street and was too slow to stop herself from thinking _that could have been Lacy and _her _baby. _Dwelling, she had learned, was destructive; if you constantly brood on something like...that...you'll drive yourself crazy. Still, just the knowledge of what he did...or what aunt Lynn did...it bothered her so goddamn much she could barely sleep. She always knew her family was dysfunctional, but this...this was a new low.

And all through it, Dad stayed drunk, his face a bloodless mask of hatred. He spoke only to Leia, and sometimes, Lupa caught him stealing furtive glances at her, a strange look in his eyes, a mixture of loathing...and hunger.

Maybe she didn't always show it, and maybe she didn't wear it on her sleeve, but she loved most of her siblings (Leia being really the only exception). She was closest to Lacy, since they were the same age and had always shared a room - in their childhood, they were playmates and constant companions, inseparable and happy despite the vast difference in their personalities, Lacy the athletic ball of energy, and Lupa reserved and meditative. Playing favorites with members of your family might be wrong, but Lacy was her favorite sibling far and away.

Yet...if her legs worked, she wouldn't hesitate to run away, to leave all of them behind and escape the tightening vise-of-dread that had become her life. She'd ask Lacy to come with her of course, but if she said no, she wouldn't hesitate to go without her.

But her legs _didn't _work; she was trapped on this sinking fucking ship, doomed to watch helplessly as the lapping waves crept higher and higher up the deck, getting closer, closer, closer until they washed over her…

...and she drowned.

Lupa never believed in God, but now...she thought maybe He _did _exist.

And hated her guts.

She took a deep breath and laid her hand on Lacy's shoulder. She wanted to say something to make her sister feel better - something to make herself feel better - but there was nothing, so instead, they sat together in dark silence, two lost souls damned to suffer eternal torment for sins that they themselves had not committed, for the sins of their mothers..and their father.

* * *

They were watching her. She could _feel _it.

It's amazing, isn't it, how once your mind is clear sky you can see the things that the medication haze prevents. Take the teacher, for example. She didn't notice it before but his eyes never left her, even when his back was turned. He sent her messages during class, messages only she could hear. _You're stupid...ugly...worthless_. He assigned a test, and she watched him closely as he sat behind his desk and fiddled with his phone - talking about her, no doubt. _She's right here, Principal McBride, I have visual contact, she'll be leaving here in 2.5 klicks and will be heading to lunch. Over._

She couldn't help a sharp grin. They thought she didn't know; they thought she was still taking their poison and rotting her body out but they were wrong, she freed herself and now she was awake like an owl. She saw their little tricks...planting taunting things in the newspaper: _Girl _here, _guitar _there, _terrible _in one of the comic's speech bubbles. There was a body with her father's name on it and an obituary with aunt Lori and aunt Lynn. That's how they worked, they cut pieces of paper out and put it on a letter like a terrorist. You wouldn't notice it all if you were being pumped full of sleep agent but when the blinders fall off like that wrestler, you get it. They were talking to _her,_ telling her that her music was awful and that she couldn't play. Before, it would worm its way into her subconscious and make her feel like shit, but now she saw right through it. It was so simple.

But of course it was, they _wanted _her to know...they wanted her on the run and constantly looking over her shoulder, because eventually that drives you crazy and when you're crazy they can take control of you. _Oh, your daughter needs to stay. _Then they keep you and use you for experiments. They take your memories away and give you back...then they repeat the whole process over again. They drove you to insanity then watched until you were ripe, then they came for you like the blade of a sytch through summer wheat. Oh, she's a danger to herself and others we have to anesthetize this bitch put her in a padded room with a straight jacket calm down Miss Loud and stop screaming. Well, what did the expect her to do when they abducted her and threw her into their fucking dungeon? Laugh? Some of the others laughed but not her, she didn't want to do this anymore, she didn't want the process to happen again and again and again. She wanted to be left alone! Why couldn't they leave her alone?

_Stupid, worthless girl. _

_Ugly bitch._

_Incest freak._

Her grip tightened around her pencil and she pressed the tip into the page so hard that it snapped.

_Uncle-father and auntie-mother. Uncle-father and auntie-mother. Hahaha. Freak!_

She glared at the teacher, but he pretended not to notice. _I am not a freak. _

_Yes you are, you're a nasty incest girl. You have sex with your brother._

Lyra seethed with rage; she couldn't deny that, she _did _have sex with Lemy. Apparently it was online now and they knew all about it. When she got home, she was going to tear her room apart and find their stupid fucking cameras, smash them against the floor, then step on them. _How's this for a porn? _

When the bell rang, Lyra gathered her things and hurried out into the hall, passing the teacher's desk with the fear of a little girl passing a giant spider hanging in a web. At her locker, she opened the door and started to shove her books in, but stopped. Being as casual as possible, she quickly rummaged through it in search of cameras or listening devices, but there were either none, or they were so well concealed that she didn't recognize them. She slammed the door and went to the cafeteria, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder and winning - for now.

_We already know you're crazy and we're coming to take you away._

"I'm not crazy," she muttered aloud without realizing it. She fell in line behind a fat boy with red hair, and swept the room with her gaze. Nothing weird or crazy about looking around, right? Maybe she was trying to spot a friend or a crush, who knows?

She didn't see friends or crushes, though; she saw Vice Principal Nolan standing between the trashcans, his hands clasped behind his back and his face like stone; she saw Mrs. Marris, the history teacher, standing against the far wall, facing him. She stared straight ahead. Coach Peters was by the door leading to the gym, his hands on his hips.

They didn't look like it, but they were watching her.

The dragnet was closing.

An icy fist gripped her heart, and her chest constricted. The line moved, and she moved with it, certain that at any moment a hand would fall on her shoulder and that a firm voice would speak into her ear. _You're coming with us, Miss. _Her fists were balled, her shoulders were tense: She'd fight like hell. _You're not doing this to me anymore! Leave me alone!_

The hammer never dropped, though; she took her tray to an out-of-the-way table and did her best to look clueless. The mashed potatoes tasted funny, and she spit what was in her mouth into a napkin. The gravy covering the meat patty bubbled like acid. The corn...the corn smelled like the arsenic it was steeped in.

She pushed it away and scanned the faces of her classmates; they ate like pigs at a trough, completely unaware that they were shoveling poison into their mouths. Couldn't they smell it? Couldn't they _see _it?

Fifteen minutes later, the bell rang. She got up, grabbed her tray, and carried it over to one of the trash cans. Vice Principal Nolan was gone now, probably watching her on one of the TV screens he kept hidden in his office. Stupid, sleazy bastard. She should march right in there and wring his scrawny little neck.

Only she couldn't...because she was afraid. If she did that, they'd be allowed to keep her forever, and God only knows what they would do to her then. Her mind tried to spin horrible visions, but she shoved them aside and hurried to her next class, making sure to smile for the cameras. Just a normal, happy girl enjoying her youth.

Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

As soon as she got home from school, Liena Loud made a B line toward the stairs, as she had done every day for over a week. She didn't notice her father in his chair until she was on the bottom step and his spoke, his voice thick and his words slurred. "Hi, Dad. How was your day?"

Liena laid her hand on the railing, paused, and frowned in confusion. Like..._he _was Dad, not her. He must be _really _drunk today.

Sudden fear raked icy nails across her heart. Lately, he had been getting drunk a lot, and when he got drunk, he was extra grumpy. Yesterday he yelled at her because 'your fucking trash heap of a bedroom smells like your mother's rotten pussy.' She remembered the way he stood in the doorway, his hand on the frame and his lips a hateful sneer, and she shuddered.

Now, he cracked open a can of beer and took a long drink, his head flopping back and swaying; some of the liquid dribbled down his chin and stained the front of his shirt. "I put up with everyone's fucking shit in this house and no one appreciates any of it. You're all a bunch of fucking ingrates just like your mothers."

Liena's stomach churned. "I-I appreciate you, Daddy," she said placately.

He chuckled harshly. "You hear that? Sounded like my daughter's voice but it's been so long since she's taken her head out of her dumb blonde ass and talked to me that I'm not too sure anymore."

Liena swallowed. Part of her wanted to flee and hide herself from his fury, but another part was afraid that if she did, he would get mad and come after her. For a long, indecisive moment she stayed where she was...then made a break for it, hurrying up the steps and hoping he didn't follow.

Whew, he didn't.

In her room, she shut the door and leaned against it. Her heart raced from the encounter, and her tummy felt sick. Only one thing could make her feel better. Her upside down smile became a right side up smile as she pushed away and went around the foot of her bed. Across the room, Loan was asleep, her left hand curled and resting against her chest, which meant Liena had to be _really _quiet; Loan was almost as grumpy as Dad when she got woken up from her naps.

Making sure to extra shhhh, she knelt next to her bed, pushed back the cover, and reached into the space between the floor and the box spring. Her fingers quested across the carpet, then brushed across something cardboardy. She threw her other hand into the mix and pulled it out, a green and black shoebox with a picture of sneakers on the side. She started to hum as she picked it up and sat on the bed; she had been looking forward to this moment all day...spending time with her little Lo Lo made life worth living.

Setting the box in her lap, she opened the lid. Logan lay nestled within, his super tiny body resting in the folds of a little blue blanket she found in the attic. He wore a white zip up onesie that was _way _big on him, a little white cap that came down to his cute button nose, and a pair of itty bitty white gloves because sometimes babies scratch their faces and she didn't want him to hurt himself. She reached into the box and carefully picked him up, being sure to cradle his head so it didn't fall off and roll away. "Hi, baby," she cooed as she brought him to her chest, "Mommy misseded you."

Logan didn't reply, because babies can't talk, but that was okay, she knew he was happy to see her. She squeezed him with a happy hum, and the chill of his squishy flesh seeped through her shirt, making her nipples hard and _not _in a sexy way. She kissed his cold forehead…

...and that's when she caught a whiff of his fetid odor: It was like yucky spoiled meat. "Lo Lol," she said disapprovingly and held him at arm's length. She pinched her brow in a stern expression. "I just gave you a tubby yesterday and now you're smelly baby _again_."

This would _not _do. She liked her babies to smell fresh and clean, not dirty and bad. "I guess we'll have to take another one."

She laid him in the box, replaced then cover, then got up and tucked it under her arm. She went to the door, opened it, and poked her head into the hallway. Left, right, nope, no one around.

You can say what you want about Liena Loud, but she was totes _not _stupid, she knew that if anyone found out about Lo Lo they would be mad, so she kept him a secret. She acted like he was alive, but he wasn't, and children shouldn't play with dead things, so if someone caught her with him, they'd take him. The prospect of losing her little boy made Liena want to cry; dead or not, she loved him and her life was already _so _much better because of him.

That didn't really matter right now, though, because the hallway was empty and no one saw her tip toe into the bathroom and close the door. She locked the handle, sat the shoebox on the closed toilet lid, then went into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a pale pink plastic tub. She took it over to the bath, knelt, and fiddled with the handles until the water was _juuuust _right. She filled it, cut the water, then retrieved Logan from the box. "Stinky, smelly baby butt," she said as she undressed him and stripped off his diaper. His distended flesh was a splotchy patchwork of gray, purple, and blue, and yellow pus leaked from the corners of his eyes and from his nose. "Mommy's little balloon," she said and poked his bloated belly. She sat him in the tub and reached for the wash cloth hanging from the faucet. She squeezed a shot of body wash onto it and lathered it up.

She hummed as she started to wash him, beginning with the top of his head and working her way down over his chest and tummy. She scrunched her lips to the side at how baggy the skin on his arms was, like it was slipping away from the bone.

When she reached his feet, she took his big toe between her thumb and forefinger and smiled up at him. "This little piggy went to market."

Logan stared down at her in that cute closed-eyed way of his.

She pinched the second toe. "This little piggy stayed home."

He didn't giggle or squirm like a live baby, but Liena didn't mind. He was the strong, silent type.

"This little piggy had roast beef."

Now the fourth toe. "And this little piggy had none."

She pinched the fifth and final toe. She leaned in and crinkled her nose like a cute pig. "And this little piggy cried _wee wee wee _all the way home!" She laughed and kissed Logan's forehead. "Come on, let's get you dressed and fed." She stood, grabbed a towel from over the rod, and picked him up. She turned away from the tub…

...and that's when disaster struck. The tape binding Logan's neck to his body, weakened by the water, came loose, and his head fell, hitting the tiled floor with a wet, sickening crack. Liena's heart burst into her throat and she hurriedly stooped down to pick it up. "Oh, Lo Lo, I'm so sorry, are you okay, baby?"

She held it up to the light and studied it, her stomach knotting. Great, now there's a dent. Good job, stupid Liena. This is, like, why you shouldn't have a _real _baby. She sighed. She was right; she'd make a _terrible _Mommy to a living baby.

"I'm sorry, Lo Lo," she said and laid his body in the box, followed by his head, "I won't drop you ever again, I promise." She closed the lid, picked the box up, and went to the door. She unlocked it, opened it, and jumped back with a tiny _eek _of surprise. Lyra fell back a step, her eyes going wide and her hand flying to her chest.

Liena laughed nervously, her arm tightening protectively around the back. "Y-You scared me. I wasn't...wasn't expecting you to be there."

Lyra's gaze darted from Liena to the box and back again. She looked just as scared as Liena herself. "What's in there?" she asked, a note of worry in her voice.

Liena's heart slammed. "Uh...n-nothing. Just bath stuff." She smiled as widely as she could. "Uh, salts, beads." She was inching along the doorframe, and now the wall. "Those kinds of things."

"Oh," Lyra said, not sounding convinced.

"It's nothing weird, I promise." She crept closer to her bedroom door. "Just bath stuff." When she was near enough, she ducked in and slammed the door behind her.

Boy, that was close.

She patted the box. "It's okay, Lo Lo, aunt Lyra is, like, not the wiser." Even so, maybe it would be a good idea to be a little more careful. Like only taking tubbies when everyone was asleep.

You gotta be smarter than that, Lie, your baby boy is on the line here.

She nodded determinedly, then went over to her bed and sat. Now where's that duct tape?

* * *

In the hall, Lyra stared at her sister's closed door, her stomach rolling with nerves.

_She's up to something._

Lyra swallowed. No, she -

_She's making bombs. She's going to blow you up. _

The first voice was male, and the second was female. There were others, and sometimes they talked over each other in a tangled confusion of taunts, threats, and banal observations, and all Lyra could do was press her hands to her ears and scream to drown them out. The man and the woman were the only ones present now, though. She called him George and her Kayla: George sounded like an older man and Kayla sounded like a snotty teenage girl who spent hours primping in the mirror just to get her hair and make-up smeared sucking the football team off in the locker room. She liked neither, but Kayla was the worst...just the sound of her voice made Lyra want to jam a knitting needle into her ear.

Liena's not doing that. She's sweet and kind and -

_Uh, yes she is, _Kayla said, _she's going to kill you and put it under your pillow. _

_Dead incest freak, _George said, _put the bomb here!_

Pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead, Lyra went into the bathroom and closed the door. She lifted the commode lid, sat, and did her business, wincing as the monsters in her mind shouted warnings of impending doom. She slipped her hands into her hair, and pushing as if to squeeze them out, she took a deep breath. "Please stop," she croaked, "just stop."

_Useless incest bitch._

_She's peeing now._

_Use your mind to kill her. _

_No, they'll know it was you._

When she was done, Lyra wiped, flushed, and went back to her room. She climbed into bed, threw the covers over her head, and grabbed her earphones: Loud music made them go away. She put on an old Rob Zombie CD her mother gave her; she turned the volume as far as it would go and curled into a ball.

It was useless.

They had eyes everywhere and she couldn't find them no matter how hard she shredded the room apart. She was safe here, though, with her music and her eyes closed. She looked like a girl who had a hard day, a normal, average, everyday girl and not like a girl who knew their dark secrets and tricks of the street. They would have no clue that she was alive and sound.

No clue at all.

She hoped.


	11. Honor Thy Father

**Say I'm a pervert, it's okay**

**Hey, candy, little girl? Walk my way**

**You fucking bitch**

**Child abuse is on my mind**

**Expose Yourself to Kids by G.G. Allin**

"Would you like fries with that?"

Every time Luan spoke that simple, commonplace question, her eyes flicked down in shame. That phrase was used to insult people when she was a kid. _Ooooh, you got swag so you don't need school? Hope you like asking people if they want fries with that hahahahahahahaha! _She'd always looked down on the idea of working at McDonald's. Not the people actually _doing _the work, but the work itself. McDonald's is...it's the lowest of the low, especially when you're older than twenty-five. _I will _never, she thought once, yet here she was, closing in on thirty-six and working the register at the Mickey D's on Central Street, dressed in a stupid uniform and wearing a stupid visor like Jamie Kennedy in _Malibu's Most Wanted_. It was nearly five in the afternoon and her shift was almost over, which meant that her boss, a fat black woman named Latisha would be along _aaaaaaany _moment to saddle her with bathroom duty.

Luan _hated _bathroom duty; the people who slithered into this grease hole had apparently never used a restroom in their life, and couldn't grasp the concept of waste going _into _the toilet, not all over the floor, seat, and walls. Believe it or not, the women's room was the worst; every day she found at least one or two used tampons lying around, swollen with blood and smelling like crotch. Every time she went in there, a ball of hot anger would form in her chest and she would take a deep, steadying breath through her nose. _Why are people such goddamn slobs? _

It really perplexed her. When she used a public toilet, she treated it just like she did the one at home: She sat, did her business, and wiped, making sure everything went into the bowl. How fucking _else _would she use it? Stand on the seat and squat? That's what Mexicans did. She wasn't racist, it was true. She didn't know _why _they did it, but who cares? The fact of the matter was that every day she had to scrub hard, crusted shit from at least one seat, and it made her so angry she'd walk out if she could.

It took her eight months to get this job, though, and as demeaning as it was, she wouldn't give it up without a fight.

God, that was a long 243 days. She _was _working at the grocery store as a bagger and got fired for stealing meat. Yes, she knew it was a stupid idea, but Lincoln had just started his current job and wouldn't get his first check for a week, and none of the others worked or would help...they always plead poverty when it came time for grocery shopping or keeping the power on, but they somehow managed to have money for pedicures, Friday nights at the club, and new clothes.

Anyway, the cupboards were bare, they had no money, and, like, five bucks on Lori's food stamp card, so...you do what you gotta do. At least that's how she saw it then, but after eight months of putting in applications literally _everywhere _and never getting so much as a fucking call back, her heart hardened. From now on, her piece of shit sisters could worry about themselves and their own kids - as long as Liby had what she needed, everyone else could fuck off and die.

Presently, she was standing by the drive through window with a set of headphones covering her ears. McDonald's is infamous for its ice cream machines always seeming to be broken; yeah, well, its drive through communications systems were always broken too. One of the speakers was completely dead, and the other was well on its way to following: The customer's voice was faint and staticky, and you had to ask them to repeat themselves three or four times, which lead to them getting pissed and, in more cases than not, acting dickish when they pulled up to the window. That was the worst part of dealing with the public: Assholes. They were _everywhere_. Everyone was rude, short tempered, and acted like you were a bug to be looked down upon. In her almost two years working here, she had come to hate people..,literally and honestly _hate _them, and sometimes keeping herself from jumping over the counter and clawing an eye out was so hard that by the time she clocked off and left she was trembling.

"Would you like fries with that?" she asked again. Her tone was flat, dead. She pressed the good speaker as close to her head as it would go and listened intently to the garbled reply. It could have been yes, it could have been no, she couldn't tell. Fuck it. They were getting fries whether they wanted them or not.

She typed the order in, printed a ticket, and ripped it off, turning toward the kitchen. D'Andre, a lanky black man, was shoveling fries into a container. She held the ticket out. "Order." He turned, grabbed it without meeting her eyes, then went back to what he was doing. "That'll be 7.52 at the second window," she said into the microphone.

The sound of the car engine dwindled, only to be replaced by another. "Welcome to McDonald's," she said, "how can I help you today?"

"_Uhhh...can I get a Whopper and a Coke, please?"_

Luan's expression did not change. It remained dull. Listless. "We don't sell Whoppers."

There was a static filled moment of silence. "_...Baconator with cheese…"_

"We don't sell those either."

Come on, buddy, haven't you ever been to McDonald's before?

"_Goddamn, what _do _you sell?"_

Luan sighed heavily. McDonald's was an American institution and had been for seventy years or more; how in the name of God did this dumb fucking prick not know what they sold? Even before she started working here she could recite the menu in her sleep, and it's not like she ate here every day. "We sell Big Macs, Quarter Pounders, fish sandwiches, chicken sandwiches…"

"_Can I get a Grande meal, please?"_

This was followed by what sounded like girlish snickering. Luan rolled her eyes: She was being pranked...again. Why did she keep falling for this crap? Seriously, every couple months someone did this to her. Last time a guy kept asking for Subway items, and before that...KFC or something. She didn't know and she really didn't care.

She started to snap, but stopped herself at the last minute. She had a daughter to think of. "Can I help you..._please_?" She wasn't begging them to let her assist them...she was begging them to cut her a break: She was tired and depressed, her feet hurt, her back was sore, and she had a hot twinge above her left eye that promised to turn into a migraine from hell. She was not in the mood for this, in other words; she was in the mood for bed.

The snickering tapered off. "_Yeah, let me get a Big Mac meal with a Coke."_

At least that's what it sounded like. She typed the order, recited the price, and handed it to D'Andre, who in turn handed her a bag. She slid the window open and poked her head out; a white Altima idled in the drive thru, a man's face staring out at her - Mr. I-Don't-Know-If-You-Wanted-Fries-But-You're-Getting-Them-Anyway. He was youngish, maybe a few years older than her, with black hair and beady eyes. "7.52," she said. He handed her a five and three crumpled ones...and touched her palm on purpose, his eyes flicking down to her breasts. She was braless (none were clean and Lori 'couldn't get' to the laundry yesterday, lazy bitch), and since it was cold and windy, her nipples were hard, pushing out the fabric of her shirt. He openly stared as she handed him his drink and his bag. Once upon a time she would have felt revulsion. Now, she felt nothing.

He shoved the cup between his legs, sat the bag in his lap, and rummaged through it. "My pie?" he asked.

Luan stared blankly. "Pie?"

"My apple pie."

Her eyes darted to his stomach. Yeah, you look like you need it, fat boy. "One second," she said. Instead of going through the ordering process, she walked over to the metal rack where the pies were kept warm under a hot lamp, picked one up, and slipped it into a box. Someone brushed rudely past her on their way to the microwave, and someone screamed laughter, making Luan wince. During her shift, she was usually the only white person in here; everyone else was black, and that laughter was the annoying overly-loud kind you only hear from black women so fat they could hardly walk. Luan wasn't a racist, but it was true.

She carried the pie over and handed it out the window. The man took it with a nod and a salacious grin.

_I hope you fuckng choke on it, _she thought.

Since the guy was a total creep, he didn't even have the stones to ask her out or anything; he rolled up his window and drove off, presumably heading home where he would stuff his fat face and then masturbate to the memory of briefly touching her hand. _Her skin touched mine for one whole second, oh man, that's so hot *fapfapfap*_

Little did he know that if the price was right, she'd do the fapping for him. She had to support herself and Liby _somehow _during those eight months of unemployment, and sometimes all a woman has to trade is her body. If you have romantic notions of sex, that might be awful. _Oh, it's the joining of two spirits and love and...and...holy union. _Pffft, no it's not; it's a physical act that releases endorphins in the brain. Sure, sex is better with someone you love, but on its own, it's just another thing: Lay back, open your legs, and count the ceiling tiles until he's spent. _Oh boo-hoo, I'm not in _love _with him. _Yeah, well, she wasn't in love with her boss either, and she fucked Luan all the time. Metaphorically speaking. But you know what: Luan would would rather have sex with a guy she didn't love for fifteen minutes than work all day in a shithole like this. The only thing McDonald's had over prostitution was consistency; she didn't go days or even a week between work. If she had steady business, she'd punch that black bitch in her face and walk out.

Another car pulled up to the window. Ahhh, Mr. Funny Man. _I'll have a taco dur-dur-dur. _Every time that happened she couldn't help but think the universe was paying her back for all the pranks she used to play on her siblings when she was younger. I know, right? How dare she be a kid and have fun. Maybe she went a little overboard here and there, but, again, kid. Oh, April Fools' Day was her Christmas, birthday, and Easter all rolled into one; she'd go all out, setting up elaborate pranks and pratfalls. It was a lot of fun.

For her at least. Her siblings _hated _it, and when she was fourteen, they finally had enough and jumped her one night, beating her with socks filled with bars of soap then leaving her on the floor black, blue, and crying. "Happy April Fools', bitch," Luna spat; her hair was still rainbow colored from Luan's latest prank.

That was the night she lost her virginity to Lincoln. He came back in after everyone had left and helped her into bed, then apologized. _You take the pranks too far, though. You need to chill. _He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and...you get the picture. Why did she do it? She didn't know: Maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was beautiful, or maybe it was the tender way he kissed her forehead...or maybe it was because she was a hormonal teenage girl who played with herself at night and sometimes thought of Lincoln in his underwear as she did it. It felt so deliciously naughty, and when he came out into the hall in the morning wearing just his briefs, the cotton molding around his bulging package...ummm. Come on, when you see something like that, your body responds whether you want it to or not, and after a long time of letting the pressure build and build and build, you find yourself so hot and shaky that in the heat of passion your morals go out the window. Your brother stopped being your brother and became just a boy...a boy to kiss and touch, a boy to run your hands over, a boy to mount and ride until you go cross-eyed with the power of your first orgasm with someone else.

"6.50," she said now. The man behind the wheel - a boy, really - handed her a ten and she made change, then handed it back along with his food.

Surprisingly, Latisha didn't track her down to clean the bathrooms; Luan was certain that this was a simple oversight, and scurried out the door with her head down lest she be called up at the last moment. She made it out safely, thank God; it was dusk and cold, and as she walked the three blocks to the bus stop, it began to rain. She barely noticed: Par for the course, baby, par for the course. If she didn't have bad luck she'd have no luck at all.

Unlike some of her sisters, she didn't blame her daughter for her situation. She blamed Lincoln...and yeah, okay, herself, too. She had dreams of doing stand-up and while having Liby got in the way of that, it wasn't her fault. It was ultimately hers.

And sometimes...that really ate her up inside. She practically strangled her hopes and dreams in the cradle.

_I should have made him pull out._

Yeah, she should have, but she liked the feeling of him cumming in her. She knew where it might lead but at the time she didn't care. After all, she was deeply, truly, and madly in love with him and if a baby happened, well...a baby happened. See, that's the thing about dreams and fantasies: You see only what you want to see. She figured that if they had a baby, she'd still be able to follow her dreams...she'd just be doing it while also having a son or daughter.

Ha. Yeah. Keep dreaming, kid.

She reached the bus stop just as the 5:10 started to pull away. She drew a heavy sigh. Now she'd have to wait for the 5:30. Fantastic. She _could _run after the damn thing, but screw it; she learned long ago to bite the pillow and take it. The driver wouldn't stop anyway, even if they saw her...she didn't know how they were in other towns, but the bus drivers in Royal Woods were dicks.

At least this stop had a shelter so she wouldn't have to wait in the rain. She went in and sank onto the bench, her back screaming. Trash littered the ground; a Bud tallboy in a black plastic bag, a crumpled pack of Newports, and...oh, that's nice, a used needle. Like many small towns in America, Royal Woods had been hit hard by the meth epidemic, but heroin was starting to make a comeback. Can't keep a good drug down, she supposed. Just ask Luna, she did H. She tried to hide it, but the tracks on her arms gave her away as surely as a big flashing neon sign. You could say her chances at being sober were _shot_. Luan couldn't blame her, though, what _point _was there? They all tried in _vein _to cope, but no matter what the did, they were all miserable. Life really got _under their skin_. They were _stuck. _

Sbe laughed richly and slapped her knee. _I still got it. _

A cold gust of wind _needled _her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She _hated _taking the bus; she always seemed to wind up waiting the longest possible time between buses, and nine times out of ten, it was so packed when it arrived that it would be standing room only. That wouldn't be so bad if there was actually room to stand, but there rarely ever was: Without fail, she wound up shoved between the two biggest, fattest bastards onboard, squeezed between them like a Milk Dud between two pigs. She missed her Tercel. Sure, it was a piece of crap older than Lori and almost as broken down, but it got her from point A to point B. When it broke down last year, Lincoln said he'd save up some money to get it fixed, but every time she brought it up he plead poverty just like their sisters. Also like their sisters, he managed to have enough for shit he didn't need, like beer. Fucking drunk.

Sometimes she really hated that man.

By the time the bus arrived twenty minutes later, she was shaking and her face was flushed with cold. She paid her dollar fifty (soon to be two dollars, wahoo!) and was surprised at how empty it was: A group of black guys sat in the back playing that goddamn annoying music of theirs on a cellphone, and a tall, lanky white guy with wirey hair sat along one wall. Looked kind of like Kramer from _Seinfeld_, if Kramer smoked crack and had an ugly herpes sore on his lower lip. Luan sneered distastefully, and stared down at her lap. Royal Woods was really going to the dogs lately. When she was a kid, it was a nice bedroom community; now it was basically a suburb of Detroit, graffiti, used needles, drunks, hookers, blacks, and gunshots _everywhere_. She fucking hated it; she was seriously considering taking Liby and leaving, but where would she go? What would she do for work? All she knew was minimum wage bullshit and hooking, she'd never make it on her own.

Maybe she could find a rich old man.

Doubtful.

She was stuck like glue, and always would be; Liby would never grow up (mentally) and Luan would always have her to worry about. The girl would never marry, never live on her own, never hold a job. This was it...her life now and forevermore.

It was almost enough to make her cry.

When the bus reached her stop, she pulled the cord and glanced over at Kramer, catching him staring directly at her crotch and licking his thin lips. Disgust shot through her and she glared at him, but he didn't notice, so focused was he on what was between her thighs.

The bus came to a gradual stop and she got to her feet, his eyes traveling slowly up her body before locking with hers. "Piece of shit," she hissed, then stalked away, stepping down onto the curb and into the blustery night. She hurried to the crosswalk, hit the WALK button, and folded her arms over her chest. When the sign changed from red to white, she crossed. Home was five blocks away, and the closer the got, the more her stomach bubbled with dread. She hated going home, she hated going to work, she hated going out, she hated everything.

Herself included.

Herself especially.

* * *

Lincoln bowed his head over his plate and angrily forked a hunk of meat into his mouth. He was so drunk he could barely sit up straight, and so filled with rage that he couldn't give into the liquor and pass out, so here he was, eating a meal he didn't want surrounded by _people _he didn't want. Well, Leia, but one day she'd turn against him too, so...whatever. Fuck 'em all. He stole a furtive glance at Lupa, who sat across from him; her head was hung similarly, and she pushed a piece of salisbury steak across her plate. _Fuck you most of all, you uppity little bitch. Food not good enough for you?_

His grip tightened on the fork and he took a deep, fuming breath. He could never win with her, from the time she was a baby on up. He tried to be a good father, but she rejected him time and time again like the little cunt she was. And you know what? He didn't like being rejected. He didn't like it at all. He carved a piece of steak off, swirled it through the gravy, then pushed it past his lips. His eyes went to the empty chair next to his daughter, and his anger only intensified. Lacy was absent...again.

Stupid fucking slut. Something burst inside of him, and he slammed his fist down on the table as hard as he could; plates, glasses, and silverware clinked, and everyone jumped. His eyes and Lupa's eyes met; fear flickered across her normally stoic face, and she reminded Lincoln so much of a deer in the headlight - a weak, puny, stupid little dear - that it was all he could do to keep from reaching across the table and throttling her. Instead, he got unsteadily to his feet and cast a hateful gaze over his so-called family. "I'm done," he said, turned, and staggered into the living room, where he dropped into his chair. He couldn't even have a decent dinner because of that white haired skank. _No, Daddy, I don't want to hug you or sit on your lap or have sex with you. I'm too good for you. You'll never have my love or my affection...or my body._

He grabbed a half empty pss warm beer from the end table and tipped it back.

_You're not good enough...I don't love you. You're a pedophile and a child molester, hahahahahahahahaha! _

Hot fury burned wafted through him like the heat from a roaring fire, and he unconsciously crushed the can in his grasp. He was good man, he worked hard and provided for his family - he deserved her love and affection...and her body too. In fact, as such a great father, he was _entitled _to them. What right did _she _have to withhold sex from him? What fucking _nerve_. Who did she think she was? He shook his head and finished off his beer. Goddamn girls today have it stuck in their stupid heads that they're perfect little fairy princesses. No, they aren't, they're evil, hideous, manipulative, backstabbing, two-faced, lying, superficial, self-centered scumbags. Fuck them, fuck them all.

Flashing, he threw the can at the TV: It hit the screen and bounced off, landing on the carpet. He hated women...and here he was living in a fucking rundown flophouse with twenty of them. _Twenty. Of. Them. _Why was he cursed with so many daughters? He had ten fucking sisters, all but one of his own kids were girls...what the fuck? It was Dad's fault. Fucking faggot couldn't shoot anything but pink, and he was apparently just like him.

He sensed a presence behind him, and turned: His lovely children were streaming out of the kitchen. Apparently feeding time at the pig trough was over. Lupa was at head of the pack, a covered plate in one hand. He oughta take it away from her; _Lacy can come down to eat, and if she doesn't, she can fucking starve_. Instead, he watched with disdain as she abandoned her crutches at the bottom of the stairs and slithered up like the snake she was. Can't balance a plate and your hobble sticks too, bitch?

He snickered mean-spiritedly to himself and turned away. Snake was right...just like the one that tempted Eve in the garden.

It was her fault the others were turning against him. She was a bad apple and you know what they say about those: They spoil the whole fucking bunch. He curled his hands into fists and clenched his teeth together. He felt like a pressure cooker ready to blow. He should have strangled that dumb bitch in her crib. Hell, he should have kicked Lucy square in her little stomach when she told him she was pregnant instead of hugging her and pretending, to her _and _himself, that he was happy. Pffft. If only he knew what was going to slide out from between her legs.

"Hey," someone said sharply from behind him, and he twisted around. Lana stood behind the chair, her brow angled down in a challenging V. Oooooh, you are barking up the wrong tree, you little plunger slut. "Are you coming with me to pick Lizy up?"

Lincoln favored her with a blank stare. And here he thought it was something _important_.

He turned back to the TV without even dignifying the bitch with a response.

"I hate you," she said, her voice dripping with menace.

"Feeling's mutual, bitch," he spat.

She sighed in disgust and stormed off, slamming the door behind her so hard the family photo - the one he gave his parents for their anniversary - fell from the mantle and landed on the carpet with a twinkle of breaking glass. Good. He always hated that fucking thing. _You literally don't want us to literally be our literal selves. _No, I want to you put your goddamn phone down for two seconds so I can take a decent fucking picture because Mom and Dad hate my presents. Yeah, that made him an asshole, right? So did wearing those noise cancelling earbuds. God forbid he want a little peace and fucking quiet. _You don't wanna hear our screaming, fighting, thumping, pissing, moaning, and shit guitar playing? Not cool, bro_. And don't even get me started on that fucking squirrel suit bullshit.

They made him sleep in the yard.

The fucking yard. Like a dog. Meanwhile, they all ate dinner together, laughed together...like he was nothing. Happy little family while he was out in the cold.

He was getting pissed just thinking about it. How many times had his sisters wronged him, ran over top of him, used him, mistreated him, hurt him?

And now...now their daughters thought they could do the same.

_Child molester._

_Pedohphile._

Fuck that.

He pushed himself up from the chair and stumbled forward, nearly falling. The room was spinning and every step threatened to send him crashing over, but he made it to the bottom of the stairs, gripped the railing for support, and began to climb...

* * *

Lupa found Lacy in the same position she'd left her in: Curled up on her side and clutching her pillow. She was not crying, which was encouraging, but the way she stared absently at the wall worried her. She engaged when you engaged her first, but just barely, which told Lupa that she wasn't suffering from catatonia or anything...she'd simply given up: Her father violently ripped her baby from her womb and strangled it right in front of her. If that's not enough to make you throw in the towel, you're one ice cold son of a bitch.

Like Dad.

Using one arm, Lupa dragged herself into the room, pushed the door closed, and crawled over to Lacy's bed. She sat the plate on the mattress and pulled herself to her knees. "I brought you dinner," she panted.

"Thanks," Lacy muttered. Her voice was hollow, washed out, barely above a whisper. She made no move to reach for the plate, or to even sit up, and Lupa hung her head. Every day they went through this, Lacy not wanting to eat and Lupa practically begging her. Sometimes convincing her was easy, other times not. She went almost four days in a row without eating, and by the end Lupa was in tears - honest, literal tears.

She put up this hardcase facade, but she wasn't tough; she'd come to realize that over the past couple weeks. She was scared, she was weak, and...other things. She didn't know. She wasn't an expert on emotions or psychology. All she knew was this: Her father terrified her, and so did Lacy, both for different reasons. She was scared of Dad and scared _for _Lacy. She needed help...counselling or something, but Dad and aunt Lynn wouldn't do it because if anyone found out, they'd both go to jail. Pretty sad, isn't it? In their daughter's darkest hour they could think only of themselves.

But of course. That's how this family worked.

In that moment, she wished she had never been born with a sharp keenness that made her chest ache. "You have to eat, Lace," she said, "please?"

Lacy sighed by way of reply.

"Please?" Lupa asked, a plaintive edge in her voice.

For a moment Lacy didn't move...then she ponderously drew herself into a sitting position, her knees folding against her chest. Lupa picked up the plate and held it out. Lacy took it and pulled back the foil covering it, her nose crinkling when she saw what it bore...as it did at everything now. She picked up the fork, cut a piece of meat off, and slipped it into her mouth. She chewed with the enthusiasm of a woman eating raw sewage, masticating slowly, mechanically, her eyes pointed down at the plate the entire time.

"How do you feel?" Lupa pressed.

"Fine," Lacy said. "Just tired."

Yeah, well, that's depression for you. She was tired too, only as soon as she crawled into bed, she'd ping wide awake and all of the devils locked away in the recesses of her mind would come out to play. Her wrists ached the way an old person's arthritis does at the promise of coming rain; she would probably wind up cutting herself tonight. Cutting herself always made her feel better. See, cutting releases endorphins in the brain that act as a sort of natural morphine and dulls the pain. If you're feeling down, the endorphins take care of that, too. Thinking about it now, she felt the lure of the blade as surely as an alcoholic feels the lure of the bottle. She had half a mind to get her blade, sneak off to the bathroom, and do it now.

Maybe when Lacy was done. She wanted to make damn sure she ate at least half of what was on her plate, and you can't do that if you're shoved into the space between the toilet and the tub sawing your wrists with a razor blade. If she turned her back for even a second, Lacy could stash some of the food somewhere and act like she ate it. She hadn't done so yet, but...Lupa wanted her sister to eat, okay? Maybe Dad and aunt Lynn didn't care if Lacy wasted away, but she did.

A soft rapting came at the door, and Lupa's stomach clutched with dread; the first thought to pop into her head was that it was her father.

Lacy tensed.

It came again. If it was Dad, he wouldn't be knocking quietly and considerately. He probably wouldn't knock at all. "Yeah?" Lupa called out.

The door opened just far enough for Liena to stick her head in. "Hi," she said sheepishly, "do you have any duct tape?"

Lupa stared as blankly at Liena as Lacy had stared at the wall. "Duct tape?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting ever so slightly.

Liena's head bobbed up and down. "Umhm. I _really _need some."

"Why?"

The older girl's eyes widened slightly with something like fear. "Uh, for...like, a school project. I have to, like, bring in a roll of duct tape and talk about it."

Lupa was born at night, but not _last _night: Liena was so full of shit her eyes were brown. "We don't have any," she said.

Liena smacked her chin against her chest. "Darn it. Okay. Thank you." She withdrew and pulled the door closed with a barely audible click. Duct tape. Yeah, I keep a roll under my pillow for those late night renovations that just can't wait. She turned back to Lacy just as she leaned over and sat the plate on the nightstand.

"That's all I want," she said and hugged her knees.

Lupa tilted to her right to get a better look at it. Roughly half of the food was gone, which was more than yesterday. "Good job," she said and flashed a tight smile. Lacy hugged herself tighter and rocked back against the wall, putting Lupa in mind of a turtle.

She pulled herself up onto the bed and sat across from Lacy. She reached out a comforting hand, but froze when the door flew open and slammed against the wall with a sharp report. Lacy's head jerked up, and her already bloodless face paled even more. Electric tendrils of fright shot up Lupa's back and into her heart. She could see in Lacy's eyes who it was.

"Miss high and mighty," Dad slurred drunkenly, "and Miss I want my baby." He laughed harshly. Lupa was suddenly petrified in fear, her stomach heavy and her heart aching. Hers and Lacy's eyes met, and Lupa saw reflected in her sister's what she knew was in her own: Childlike terror. "What are you _dykes _doing? Fucking each other? You won't fuck _me_ but you fuck her."

She knew why he was here, and the realization that he would take it if he really wanted, that she would be powerless to fight him, made her muscles go limp with horror. In that moment, she felt very much like the little girl she was.

The door slammed shut, and Dad lumbered forward, the overpowering stench of booze preceding him. Lupa was rooted in place, unable to move, caught like a deer in the headlights. When her father grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her head back, she cried out in pain and fright. Lacy flinched and hugged her knees closer.

Dad's cheek was pressed against hers, his stubble like sandpaper on her flesh. His breathing was ragged, husky, the smell of hot alcohol filling her nostrils. Her heart crashed and her body trembled. "You're a stuck up _bitch," _he panted, "and you're gonna learn."

A pang went through Lupa's stomach and she fought to catch her breath. She didn't know she was speaking until she heard the rusty squeak of her own voice. "D-Dad, please…"

Yanking her hair roughly and bringing tears to her eyes, he whipped her around and shoved her face into the mattress. She was bent over the edge, her useless knees planted in the carpet. Her heart rocketed into her throat and she tried to push back against him, but he was too strong. Lacy was sobbing now; she buried her face in her knees and quivered.

Lupa moaned miserably as he slipped his hand up her skirt, hooked his fingers into her panties, and yanked them down. She could do nothing to stop him, nothing to even resist. Tears burst from her eyes and she wept in desolation. She was trapped, just as she had always been, and just like she would always be.

When she heard the ominous sound of a zipper, she cried out in wordless hysteria. She never wanted to have sex with her father - she prided herself on never having sex with him - but she was about to, and that made her cry harder.

"You're gonna see," he slurred. He ripped her skirt and it tore crisply. "You're _my _daughter. _Mine." _

"Please stop," she whimpered, "don't make me do this, please don't make me do this, Daddy."

In one violent motion, he slammed into her, his length parting her virgin body. Hot, stinging pain filled her head and she wailed. It felt like she was being ripped in half. Dad pushed his hips flush with her butt and deep inside, Lupa could feel him battering against her cervix. He pulled back, and slammed forward again, hitting the tender opening of her womb like a clapper hitting a bell. The pain was so intense it ripped the breath from her chest; she couldn't fight, she couldn't cry, and she couldn't scream, she could only lay there as he rutted into her.

"You like that, bitch?" Dad asked. He pulled out slowly, then shot forward again; sharp, razor-like agony permeated her, and she bit down so hard on her lower lip that she drew blood. Dad yanked her hair like a rider yanking the reigns of a horse, and her neck craned back, the muscles in her throat spasming. "You like Daddy's dick?" He pushed her forward again and slammed into her as roughly as he could. Lupa was a just a girl and didn't know her own body as well as she might like to think; she didn't know if he ripped her cervix asunder (of if doing so was even possible), but it sure as shit felt like it.

He established a steady pace. She turned her head to her sister; Lacy cried but did not move, did not help, did not even speak.

Lupa was alone. Totally and entirely alone in the world.

Something in her spirit broke then; the fight drained out of her and she turned away from her sister in shame. Cheek flat against the bed, she stared at the wall as her father raped her, her face wet with tears and her eyes like those of a battle-scarred refugee. Her face was slack, numb, the only movement coming in the form of a strained wince when he suddenly swelled in her, his dick straining excruciatingly against her walls. He thrusted one last time, then released with a low, guttural growl; his boiling slime launched deep into her violated womb, and Lupa took it in broken silence, her body obediently sucking every last drop.

When he was finished, he flopped limply against her back, his lips coming to rest against her ear. "How'd you like it, you fucking lezzie?"

Lupa didn't reply.

"Your pussy belongs to _me_," he said.

She said nothing.

He bit down on her earlobe; even the pain of ripping flesh was not enough to stir her. "And when I want it, I'll fucking have it." He let go of her hair and pulled out; hot liquid coursed down the backs of her legs. He struggled to his feet, pulled up his pants, and zipped them. "The same goes for you too," he said to Lacy. "The same goes for _all you bitches!" _He shouted the last three words, and his voice reverberated like the thunderous roar of an angry deity.

When he was gone, Lupa remained where she was. Her crotch throbbed like an abscessed tooth with every frenetic beat of her heart. Slowly, she allowed herself to fall to the floor,, then crawled to her bed, climbed up, and leaned back against the headboard. Drops of blood and globs of semen stained the floor and her coverlet. Her mind was blank, her body was a swirling tempest of emotions...chiefly among them hatred.

For herself.

For letting him do that to her.

Across the room, Lacy still shook and wept as though _she _was the one who'd just been raped. Lupa felt a rush of hate for her sister - who sat there and let it happen, who didn't even _try _to help. Had it been Lacy, Lupa would have done _something, _even though she knew she wouldn't prevail.

Lacy did nothing.

Her eyes started to leak, and she wiped them dry, then reached over, opened her nightstand drawer, and took out a single razor blade. Her hands trembled as she rolled up one sleeve of her hoodie and held it against her pale flesh. She was a junkie, and this was her fix...her escape.

She jerked the blade across her wrist, the skin tearing. A surge of endorphins flowed through her, but they were not enough. She moved higher and cut again, and again, and again…

...and again.

* * *

Leia was seething when she burst through the door, her flat chest heaving with great, angry breaths. Her pedicured nails bit into the fleshy pads of her palms and her teeth ground together with a spine-tingling sound.

That _bastard_. That filthy, rotten, stinking _asshole_. Since he aborted Lacy's dumb baby, Dad had barely touched her. Night after night she burned with desire for the sting of penetration, and every night he wasn't 'in the mood.' No matter what she did, no matter what she wore, no matter how much she danced her fingers across his stomach and kissed his neck, he wouldn't fuck her.

But he'd fuck Lupa, that ugly, white-haired, plain faced, fish faced fucking cripple.

Leia's body convulsed with barely contained rage. She slammed the door, stalked over to her bed, and sat down, only to jump up a moment later and pace, her fists opening and closing. How could he do this to her? _She _was supposed to be the one he fucked, _she _was supposed to be his only..._he belonged to her, goddamn it! _

What did Lupa have that she didn't, huh? What made him go to _her _instead of Leia? Was it her breasts? It sure couldn't be her face or her pussy; Leia was prettier and smaller than her, thus tighter. Dad told her all the time how good she felt.

Not good enough to keep him from parking his dick in the handicapped spot apparently. She lashed out and kicked the wall, denting it; plaster dust puffed up and made her cough, which pissed her off even more.

She was going to get him back, she decided. She didn't know how, and she didn't know when, but mark her words, she was going to make him pay. _No one _fucks with Leia Loud. No. One. She spun on her heels, went to her bed, and dropped down, her arms crossing and her brow pinching sullenly. She hoped he wanted to have sex tonight...because she wasn't in the mood.

A harsh laugh bubbled up from her throat, a laugh that cut short when the door opened. Lizy stepped hesitantly in, and Leia blinked: She wore a pair of overalls and her signature red cap.

Also a pink eyepatch.

Her good eye danced with a hopeful light. "Hi," she said meekly.

Oh, this was _too _rich.

"Ahoy, matey," Leia snorted, and laughed so hard she cried.

She didn't see the light in her sister's eye fade. Too bad: She would have enjoyed that immensely.


	12. Hellfire

**Lyrics to **_**Light My Fire **_**by The Doors (1967)**

Sometimes you just gotta get away from it all, like walking away from a raging dumpster fire. Friday afternoon, Luna Loud threw a duffle bag onto her bed and shoved a few changes of clothes in, then zipped it up. She'd grabbed them from the dirty clothes hamper (really, Lori, no clean laundry?), and didn't even know what was there - not that she really gave a fuck. She sat, pulled her purple boots on, and laced them with trembling fingers. She was just tying off the second one when her stomach cramped painfully; she clenched her teeth and moaned, her hands freezing at their task. Her arm muscles began to twitch, and she suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. She got shakily to her feet and hurried to the bathroom, where she dropped before the toilet, bent, and puked, a wave of sickly grayish liquid leaving her in a rush. Her stomach spasmed, and she cried out, her hands flying to the rim for support.

When the storm passed, she rocked back on her knees and wrapped her twig-like arms around her emaciated, almost-breastless frame. Slick, piss warm sweat coated her forehead and more slathered her cold, quivering body. She bowed her head as if to pray, and waited for it to break.

This was bullshit. She needed a fix.

It had been three days since she ran out of H - three long, miserable, fucked up days of withdrawals, three days of craving it so bad she could _taste _it, three days of sleepless nights and shiftless days, too sick and depressed to roll out of bed. Usually Chunk let her suck him for a fix, but lately he was real weird about money. _I can't keep lettin' it go for free, luv, I got me bills to pay. _Fucking limey ass wanker bitch, he knew she didn't have any cash and he fucking knew what not having brown did to her. He didn't care, though, because he was a fat piece of shit with a dumb nose ring and a little dick. Fuck him.

Isn't it grand how you can do and do for people and they still shaft you? When she was fifteen, she fucked this guy - gave him her virginity - because he was sad and homesick and moping like a bitch. _Oooh, I been tryna' date, luv, and I ain't havin' me no luck, I'm sooooo alone. _Did he keep that in mind? No, he didn't. He was an ungrateful punk, just like Lincoln.

Man, Lincoln _really _fucking pissed her off. She gave up her dreams to have his children when she was seriously thinking of having an abortion, and when Lyra was diagnosed with schizophrenia, she handled everything - doctor appointments, picking up her meds, taking her to the hospital when she was having an episode and thought everyone was out to kill her. Hell, even before she was diagnosed, when no one knew what was wrong with her and why she would hide under her bed or in a closet, why she'd throw raging tantrums and talk to people who weren't there, _she _was the one dealing. Where the fuck was _he_? When she pointed out what a neglectful piece of shit he was, he busted out the _I work _bullshit. What, you can't do anything else? He'd come home at the end of the day, crack a beer, and sit in his chair like a fungal growth or some shit. Fucking asshole. _I'm tired, I worked all day._ Yeah, bitch, so did I, I worked with Lyra to calm her down. You jerked off in a cubicle.

Another spasm wracked her stomach, and she moaned in agony. Fuuuuck. She threw her head back and hugged herself even tighter. God, she needed a fix. God, God, God.

And meanwhile that bastard Lincoln had his fucking alcohol. Piece of fucking shit. I'm glad you got your fucking medicine, man, where's mine? Why do _I _have to suffer? All I do and this is how you repay me. Fuck you. You know what, Linc-o? Lemy's not even yours, he belongs to some dude I fucked at a rave. He's fucked up because all of the drugs I was on. I'm not even one hundred percent sure Lyra's yours. And that miscarriage you don't know about? Uh-uh, that wasn't yours either.

The pain slowly subsided, and she pushed herself to her feet, her knees quaking and a wave of dizziness breaking over her. She pressed her fingers to her temple, closed her eyes, and fought to steady herself. When she was sure she wouldn't topple over, she went into the hall and started for the stairs, but stopped at a closed door. She looked around, then tried the knob.

It was locked.

She rolled her eyes, of course it was. She slipped the paperclip from her ear and bent it to an angle. Throwing a suspicious glance over her shoulder, she inserted the clip into the lock. She held the knob fast and jiggled the pick. After a moment, the tumblers activated, and the door creaked open. She slipped in and shut it behind her. The room was Spartanly furnished: A single twin bed, neatly made, a dresser, a desk and chair. Her heart was racing as she crossed to the dresser and gingerly pulled the top drawer out; the wheels squeaked in the track and she winced, sure that Lori would somehow hear and come running. She didn't, though, and Luna hurriedly sifted through socks and underwear until she found it: A wad of twenties and tens. She chuckled humorlessly. Lori was always going on and on about not having money. _Go shopping, Luna, don't come home without groceries, Luna, _but she had cash...she borrowed it from Lincoln in dribs and drabs and squirreled it away. Pretty fucked up, huh? Keeping it all for herself, greedy bitch. _Oh, boo hoo, the kids don't have food. _Yeah, but you have...she picked up the money and counted...one-hundred-ten dollars. What, you can't make a meal with that? Food prices must have _really _risen.

She slipped two twenties out, shoved them into her skirt pocket, and refolded the stack, tossing it haphazardly back. She pushed the drawer closed and went to the door, stopping and putting her ear to it. She didn't hear anything, so she eased it open just enough to poke her head out.

The hall stood empty.

She tuned the thumblock, inched out, and pulled the door quietly closed behind her. In her room, she picked her phone up from the nightstand and dropped onto the edge of the bed. She swiped her thumb across the screen and texted Chunk. _Wher r u._

A minute later he replied. _On me way._

Thank fuck. The money combined with agreeing to spend the weekend camping with him (camping? In the winter? WTF, dude?) ensured that for the next three days, at least, she'd have a steady supply of H. Hallelujah. This going without shit was getting on her nerves. Lincoln needed to start working overtime or something. That or Lola needed to stop slutting around and get a job.

She knew, in a vague, hazy sort of way, that Lori would find out and know who took her money, but right now, sweaty and sick, Luna didn't care. That was a fight for another day, a day far, far in the future, and she wasn't in the habit of worrying about the future, she worried about the now.

"Maaaa!"

Luna looked up, and Lemy stood in the doorway, a big grin plastered to his face. Oh, she did not feel like dealing with this right now; she was clammy and sick and jonesing so hard she felt like she was dying. Nevertheless, she flashed a wan smile. "Hey, man, how's it going?"

He tittered and came into the room, dropping onto the bed next to her. She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. You know, despite it all, she dug her kids; they were okay. "What'cha up to?"

"Nothing," he said.

"You staying away from fire?"

He giggled. "Fiiirrree."

"Yeah, man, you gotta chill with that stuff, it'll burn you up."

Lemy tittered happily at the idea of being burned. Luna didn't get it, he knew how bad fire hurt, but he still had some kind of fantasy about being consumed by flames or something. She wondered if his father - his real father - was a pyro too; she didn't remember shit about him. She was fucked up and dancing when he came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, then her legs, then up her skirt...everything else was foggy.

Maybe Lemy _was _Lincoln's. Or someone else's. She didn't fucking know, she was with a lot of guys over the years. Sex is fun, you know, and she wasn't some fucking prude about it. _Oh, we have to be married and in love blah blah blah_. No we don't.

"Fire make Lemy haaaaapppppyyy," Lemy drew and snuggled against her side. "And horrrrnnnnyyy."

Luna was shocked into a laugh. She leaned forward and looked at his crotch; yup, dude had a boner from hell. He twisted around and looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes. "Mommy get Lemy off?"

Well...yeah, okay, why not? She had time to kill, and what better way to do it than by bonding with her son? "Sure," she said, and Lemy's smile widened. She slipped off the bed and shifted between his knees. His eyes twinkled when he realized what she was going to do; he loved being sucked off.

She grinned wickedly up at him as she pulled the tab of his zipper teasingly down. She unbuttoned his jeans with nimble fingers and his not-inconsiderable penis popped out; it was red and twitched with fever, the heat caressing her face and the wild, animal smell drifting into her nostrils. She wrapped her fingers around it, and Lemy's breath caught, his hips rocking forward. A haughty smile of satisfaction touched her thin lips; she still had it. "Does that feel good?"

Lemy, hands splayed on either side of him, nodded. Luna tilted her head forward until her lips were almost touching him; her hot breath puffed against his member, and it twitched in anticipation. A bead of precum formed at his head and dribbled down his flank. She watched it for a moment, her core beginning to ache, then she leaned in and curled her tongue, faintly ghosting it along his fevered skin and catching his fluid on her tip. Lemy moaned; his hips jerked spasmodically and Luna giggled. She _really _liked to tease a man and bring him to the edge, only to pull back at the last second and watch him squirm. It was such a fucking turn on, and right now she was getting really aroused: Her slit was damp and some of her essence trickled down the insides of her meager thighs.

She glided her hand up his dick, squeezed, then took it in her mouth, moving down slowly, dragging the tip of her tongue down his underside. He clutched the blankets in his hands and rolled his hips; his breaths came in ragged gasps. The salty taste of his precum filled her mouth, and she hummed in appreciation. He touched the back of her throat, and she pulled up slowly, swishing a mixture of saliva and his substance against him. She reached his crowned head, then jerked down. He gasped and bucked against her. She cupped his balls in her hand and started to knead like a playful kitten as she reached his base.

When her phone buzzed, her eyes flew open. She spit him out, twisted, and picked it up, her heart racing with hope. _Here luv, _the text read, _and i brought me friend mr. brownstone._

YES!

She jumped to her feet, oblivious to the look of hurt and confusion on her son's face, and to the desperate way his penis jerked, aching for a release that was so, so close but so, so far. She grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder. "Alright, man, it's been real. See ya Monday," she said and patted the top of his head.

"Maaa?" he asked brokenly as she left the room; she didn't hear and wouldn't have stopped if she had...Chunk was here and he had heroin. That's all that mattered.

At the head of the stairs, she met Lyra coming up. She did not notice the girl's fevered eyes, anxious expression, or mumbling lips. "See ya Monday," she said and descended.

* * *

_That was a threat._

_She's going to kill you on Monday. _

_Go to your room and hide!_

_Chase her down and kill her first!_

"No, she wouldn't hurt me, you're lying," she muttered as she wandered aimlessly toward the bathroom, "stop lying to me, stop trying to drive me crazy."

Like her mother, she did not notice Leia standing by the door, her eyes locked on Lemy, her mind working, a plan forming from the hate-filled depths of her soulless mind. Lemy sat with his head bowed and his erection standing proud, winter sunlight gleaming on the mixture of his and his mother's fluids. Leia sneered distastefully at the prospect of doing what she was about to do, but her plan for vengeance against her father required a fall guy, and Lemy Loud, you...are...it.

She entered the room and pushed the door closed behind her. Lemy looked up, his face slack with disappointment. "Hi," she drew and batted her eyelashes, "what'cha doing?"

He grunted stupidly.

Instead of rolling her eyes like she wanted to, she flicked them to his penis, making damn sure to be as obvious as humanly possible. She hummed and looked into his eyes as she began to saunter toward him, her hips swishing and the hem of her skirt caressing her stockinged knees. His eyes widened when she knelt before him, her hands coming to rest on the tops of her thighs. Her eyes darted from his eyes to his dick and back again, and her pink tongue swiped slowly and suggestively along her bottom lip. He blinked in surprise, and she uttered a high, musical giggle. "Do you need me to help you with something, Lemy?"

He nodded eagerly.

She reached out and trailed her thumb up his aching rod. His eyes rolled back into his head and he started to shake. He was so pathetic she could hardly stand it, and it took everything she had to keep from crushing his balls in her hand. "Well," she said and tilted her head cutely, "I need you to help _me _with something too."

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Can you do that, Lemy?"

He stared at her; he was panting like the horny, mindless dog he was. She leaned in and pressed her lips faintly to his dick. "If you help me, I'll help you." Her tongue darted out and touched him. He writhed and let out an animalistic mewl. She flattened the tip of her tongue and licked slowly upward, stopping when she reached his head. He trembled.

She pouted. "You help me?"

His head bobbed frantically up and down. Leia grinned to herself. So predictable. "Ummm. Thank you, Lemy," she said huskily, then molded her lips around his tip. Lemy groaned as she pushed down, his length filling her warm, wet mouth. He wasn't as big as Dad, so he didn't strain against the insides of her cheeks, though when he poked the back of her throat she _did _gag. She ignored it, though. She laid her hands on his legs and established a frenetic pace, her head bobbing up and down. Lemy groaned and threaded his fingers through her blonde hair, which made her slack just a little. _My fucking hair? Really? I just did it!_

Focus, Leia, it'll all be worth it in the end. She thought of her father as she worked her brother's penis, of the payback he had coming, of the pain and agony that he would suffer. She felt herself beginning to stir, and instead of fighting it, she let her arousal come; she slickened and her heart thumped a crazy beat. Lemy ran his hands through her hair and thrusted up to met her every downward stroke. She saw visions of Dad's face twisted in horror and his eyes pooled with misery, and her center burned so hot it made her lightheaded. She pushed away from her brother and pounced him, knocking him back against the bed and welding her lips hungrilly to his. For a moment he was too shocked to respond, then he kissed her, their tongues wrestling for dominance. His hands moved down her arms, around her hands, and clutched her butt, the way his nails dug into her soft flesh making her gasp. She shoved her arm between them, hooked her finger into the waistband of her panties, and yanked them down, her heat seering her hand.

The kiss broke, and she pulled her underwear to her knees, then kicked out of them. She slapped her hand against his chest, her body thrilling at his wince of pain, then pushed herself up. She shifted her hips until their sexes were aligned, then she jerked roughly down. He crashed through her lips and scraped her quivering walls. She moaned and began to bounce, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. Her eyes, filled with fire, narrowed, and her teeth clamped her bottom lip. Lemy simply lay there, gaping at his little sister's unbridled passion. When he came alive, he gripped her hips and pushed up, spearing her deeper. She bowed her head and rocked against him. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," whispered, "oh, God…"

His hands crept up her body, his thumbs brushing her nipples through the fabric of her shirt; sharp sensation radiated through her body and she sighed. She pressed his hands hard against her chest and threw her head back, her hips rocking wildly back and forth. He rubbed his palms against her breasts, and that was all she could take; not having sex in a week and a half does funny things to a girl, like making her cum within two minutes of penetration. Convulsions tore through her, and she cried out. Lemy swelled painfully against her walls and released, his sticky hot seed shooting deep into her and making her eyes widen. God, she loved that feeling. She smiled up at the ceiling as she rode out her climax, her hands still on Lemy's, his palms still mashed against her nipples.

When she was done, she rolled off of Lemy and lay next to him. Her knees were jelly, her heart raced, and his seed oozed out of her in a thick stream, staining the cover. She was actually surprised at how good it was.

The sex wasn't important right now, though.

Catching her runaway breath, she turned and propped her face in her upturned palm. "So, here's what I need from you…"

* * *

Lupa lay sprawled in her bed, her vacant eyes pointed at the ceiling and her mouth a white, tight-lipped slash. One arm jutted over the edge, and the cuff of her hoodie had ridden up to reveal a series of angry red cut marks. She wasn't aware of this fact, and she wouldn't have cared if she had been. No one would notice...and no one would care.

"Hey," Lacy said hesitantly from her own bed, and Lupa turned her head toward the wall. She drew a heavy breath and shifted slightly. She was tired and depressed, but she didn't want to fall asleep because every time she did, she went back to that day nearly a week ago, her father gipping her hips painfully and jamming himself into her, thrusting, filling her with his cum...to the absolute and utter helplessness she felt, to the feelings of violation and domination.

And humiliation.

Tepid tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back. She felt so small, so powerless; all she could do was lay there and let him fuck her, hating herself for being too weak to fight back. Do you know how badly that hurts? It's like a gnawing in your stomach, a band tightening around your heart and lungs. She couldn't stop him. And when he came back, she wouldn't be able to stop him then either: She'd have to roll onto her back and take it.

The blade cried out from her nightstand, and she seriously considered getting it out. She could press it against her soft throat...dig it into her flesh...then jerk. It would hurt, but only for a little while...just a little while.

"Lupa?"

The corners of Lupa's mouth turned down and her face hardened. Every time she heard Lacy's voice, bitter hatred flowed through her like acid. She tried hard to forgive her sister, but right or wrong, the feeling of betrayal was so deep, so consuming that she couldn't. _I was prepared to die for you, Lacy, _she thought now, repeating a snatch of the same line, the same argument, that had been running endlessly through her mind since Monday. _But you wouldn't do the same for me. _Realizing just how alone in the world she was, like a girl drowning in the middle of a black, tempest-tossed sea, hurt more than even the rape.

She didn't want to be alone, goddamn it, she wanted her family to be normal; she wanted a dorky dad to roll her eyes at, a mother who fussed and made her put on a coat before leaving the house, siblings to laugh and play and bicker with...siblings who may wrong and mistreat each other, but always kiss and make up at the end of the day. She wanted rules and lame family portraits and all of the things she openly scoffed at but secretly envied. She wanted it so bad she ached, and the knowledge that she would never, ever have it made her want to sob her little eyes out. _I just want to be loved._

And protected.

Across the room, Lacy sat with her knees drawn to her chest and a sad frown on her face. She stared silently at her sister for a moment, then hazarded another attempt. "Lupa?"

"Leave me alone," Lupa groaned miserably.

Lacy started to speak, but cut herself off. Ever since the day...Dad hurt her, Lupa had been really depressed and short-tempered. Lacy was pretty sure that Lupa was mad at her for some reason, and that made Lacy feel claustrophobic, because Lupa was all she had. She hugged her legs and rested her forehead against her knees as tears threatened to overwhelm her; in that moment she wanted to die. Lupa hated her, Dad hated her, Mom hated her, and her baby was dead in the trash.

She started to cry. There was no point in living anymore, every day was bleak and meaningless. Once upon a time, she cared about baseball and soccer and things like that, now she cared about nothing. Except Lupa and Lupa didn't care about her; that hurt so bad it felt like her something was going to collapse in on itself. "Lupa…"

"Don't fucking talk to me!" Lupa snapped.

Lacy cried harder, unashamed, her grief laid bare for her sister to see and hear. There was a time when Lacy would rather die than show such raw emotion, such vulnerability, in front of someone, even Lupa, but now she didn't give a fuck. Her life was over. Teenage girls say that all the time, but they did it for petty stuff like ruined dates or something. This wasn't petty. This was her baby being dead and her aching for it every single day, dreaming of holding it every single night; this was being hurt and hated by everyone you tried to love. If that's how it was going to be, she didn't want to live anymore. "I wish I was dead," she sobbed.

"So do I," Lupa said. "There's a razor in my nightstand. Use it."

She should. She should cut her wrists and let herself bleed to death; at least then she wouldn't have to miss her baby or have nightmares about Dad pulling it out and strangling it until its head came off. In dreams, it cried and kicked and screamed for her to save it - _help me, mommy, please! - _but she was frozen in place; she could only watch as it died again and again and again.

Death sounded good. Really good.

She sniffed wetly and turned her head to face Lupa, her cheek pressed flat against her knee. Lupa lay on her back, her face aimed at the wall. "Can I have it?" she asked, a hitch in her voice. With a heavy sigh, Lupa twisted around, opened the drawer, and took out a single blade. Her eyes did not meet Lacy's as she tossed it; it landed on the cover.

"Across the street for attention, down the road for results," Lupa said dully.

Lacy stared down at the blade, her heartbeat speeding up and her throat going dry; it gleamed wickedly in a spill of sunlight...except for the dulled edge..._that _was crusted with dried blood. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Lupa as if for guidance, but she was staring at the wall again, her back metaphorically turned, her shoulder cold. Lacy reached out with trembling fingers and picked the razor up. It felt like ice in her hand...the ice of death. She nervously licked her lips.

If there was one word her friends would use to describe her, it would be _tough_. On the field, she ran fast, hit hard, and always got back up after being knocked down. She finished a soccer game in the fifth grade with a sprained wrist, and in seventh grade, she scored a game winning touchdown with a concussion.

The truth, though, was this: She was _not _tough. She realized that as she pressed the blade against her wrist; it shook in her grasp, and each time she tried to cut, she winced at the pain and drew back. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and she gritted her teeth in determination.

She couldn't do it. She sat there for what felt like eons with the blade biting into her flesh but not drawing blood. Finally, she threw it aside and buried her face in her knees.

"Pussy," Lupa grunted.

* * *

Lincoln was in a foul mood when he got home that Friday evening; the car wouldn't start that morning, his boss dressed him down in front of the entire department, and the liquor store was out of Canadian Mist, so he had to buy Captain Morgan, which was more expensive and not as smooth. Lovely day. Real fucking lovely.

He slammed through the door to find the living room deserted and the TV off, which wasn't surprising; his bastard ingrate kids didn't like spending time with their old man anymore. They'd rather shut themselves up in their rooms. That was fine by him, though; he didn't want them around anyway. He closed the door behind him and crossed to his chair, where he sat with a weary, defeated sigh. In the kitchen, Lori rustled around as she prepared the evening slop. Lincoln untwisted the cap of the Cap (hey, it's like a pun or something) and took a long swallow; it burned all the way down but he didn't care; chasers are for bitches. So is dinner. _This _was the nourishment he needed. Cable TV is for bitches too. How much would he save a month if he had it cut off? No one in this house deserved it and _he _didn't watch the damn thing, so why keep it around?

No one in this house deserved shit. If they wanted something, let _them _work. No more _Daddy, Daddy, Daddy _and _Lincy, Lincy, Lincy, _fucking fat hands stuck in his face asking for this, asking for that. _I need money fo' da club _and _Lyra needs her medication_. Get a fucking job, how about that? The only one who even had a job was Luan...and that was McDonald's. _LOL! _A grown woman working at McDonald's like a fucking teenager and making minimum wage. Pretty fucking sad, huh? She could do better, she just didn't want to. None of them did. They wanted to sit on their asses, ignore their fucking kids, and suck him dry as soon as he got home, and not in a good way. You know...why did he even do this? He worked forty to fifty hours a week just to have dick at end of it all. Why not just stay home?

He took another pull from the bottle and winced as the Captain spread through him like a brush fire. He should quit...he should quit and make these bitches work. There were ten of them...no, eight...how fucking many? It didn't matter, there were a fuck ton, plus Liena and Lyra, they were old enough to have jobs. If they all worked part time, they'd be golden right now. Instead they made _him _work like he was their goddamn nigger servant slave boy. They always did that to him. Well, you know what...no more. Those fucking days are _over_. In fact, they ended _right now_.

Gripping the neck of the bottle tightly in one hand, he got up, and nearly pitched forward on shaky knees, but caught himself with a muttered curse. He took another drink and shuffled into the kitchen, where Lori was stirring a pot of something that smelled like shit. She glanced up at him, and her eyes darted to the bottle. "You're getting a job, bitch," he slurred.

A shadow of fear crossed her face, and she hurriedly looked away.

Disrespectful cunt.

"You hear me?" Lincoln demanded.

"Can we talk about this later, please?" she asked, her voice a strained whisper.

Lincoln flashed; he shot forward like a striking cobra, and Lori cried out in pain when he snatched a handful of her hair and wrenched back. "I'M DONE BEING YOUR GODDAMN NIGGER!" he yelled, spittle flying from his lips and spraying her face. "YOU"RE GETTING A JOB! A JOB! A JOB!"

She thrashed against him and threw out her arm, hitting him in the face. That did it: He balled his fist and smashed it into the side of her head. She uttered a sharp scream, and before he knew what he was doing, he shoved her away; she landed hard on the floor in a heap of bitch.

Rage swept through Lincoln's chest. He was done being their servant, he was done being their ATM, he was done sitting there and taking shit from a bunch of fucking women who thought they were big and tough and wanted to control him, he was done, done, DONE. Seething now, he turned, spotted the pot on the stove (Hamburger Helper, Lori? AGAIN?), and grabbed it. "Fuck you!" he cried and threw it against the wall; the pot struck with a clatter and food splashed out. Lori, sobbing into her hands now, jumped. "There's your dinner, bitch. Eat up. Bon appa-fucking-tite." He stalked over, and she cringed. God, she was so fucking pathetic. He shot out his arm and grabbed her by the chin, her lips smooshing together. Her eyes were filled with terror and she quaked all over. "Tomorrow," he said, his voice low and brutal, "you get a job or you and your retard daughter are out."

He pushed her away and stormed out, the hitching sound of her pitiful weeping following behind. Good. Maybe she got the fucking message this time. He took another drink as he crossed the living room and started up the stairs. He was starting to feel unsteady, and warm oblivion tinged the edges of his consciousness. He reached the top and paused, gripping the railing to keep himself from falling. Fucking stupid bitches. They're all getting jobs. Liby too. No more excuses. She was almost fifteen, she could find something. Loan too. Night watchman, there you go; throw her in front of the door so no one can come in.

Another drink. More fire. More rage. He took a deep, angry breath through his nose...and gagged: A thick cloud of sickly-sweet odor, like spoiled meat, hung heavy in the air. He waved an angry hand in front of his nose and gritted his teeth. _This _was bullshit. Every fucking day it stank up here, and every day he yelled at Liena because it was coming from her nasty ass pigsty of a room.

This ended now.

He went to her door, taking another pull, and threw it open, a wave of fetor washing over him and nearly knocking him back. Liena was sitting on her bed and rocking a baby doll. She looked up, and the blood instantly drained from her face. From that look alone, he knew she was doing something wrong; she was too fucking dumb for a poker face and always had been.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, his voice thick and slow.

She gaped stupidly, her jaw slack and her eyes shimmering with fear. Lincoln looked from her to the thing in her arms...and blinked in shock: Since when do they make baby dolls with loose flaps of gray skin and exposed skull?

It hit him.

"You dirty, nasty scum-bitch," he said dangerously.

"I-I-I... " she stammered.

"YOU FILTHY FUCKING CUNT!"

In her bed, Loan started and let out a frightened gurgle.

Lincoln sprang forward, the bottle dropping from his hand and landing with a thud on the floor. Liena's eyes widened and she screamed. He grabbed her face and slammed her head back against the wall. "YOU DIRTY SLUT!" He slammed her head again, then brought the back of his hand down in a deadly arc, his knuckles raking painfully across her cheek. She moaned and started to cry.

He pushed her back and grabbed the fetus by the front of its onesie. Liena shrieked and held fast. "My baby!"

He yanked, and the baby came apart in the middle, its rotting intestines plopping wetly into Liena's lap. She screamed in horror as Lincoln stumbled back, the baby's bottom half in his hands. Its flesh was cold and like marble. He drew back and threw it against the wall; it splattered with a squelching sound and slid to the floor, leaving a greasy trail in its wake.

Liena was holding its upper half close to her chest and sobbing. "Lo Lo," she moaned, "are you okay?" Blood trickled from one of her nostrils, and an ugly purple bruise was beginning to form on her cheek.

"GET THAT FUCKING THING OUT OF MY HOME!" Lincoln screamed.

"B-But…"

"Now!"

Weeping bitterly, she rolled out of bed and collected the baby's legs from the floor. "Don't forget the guts," Lincoln said and nodded to the bed.

She scooped the guts into her arms, and carried the broken remains of her Lo Lo downstairs, Lincoln following to make sure she actually disposed of them. Outside, she sat them in the trash, then covered her face with her hands and cried. Shaking his head in disgust, Lincoln went back inside and sat in his chair.

This goddamn family was more trouble than it was worth.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes. He should fuck Lupa again after dinner. Or...he should fuck Liby. She was just like her sister; little Miss Too-Good-For-Daddy. He should fuck her ass so it hurt more...really drive the point home: You belong to me and will do what I say.

With that thought in mind, Lincoln lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Lemy sat alone in the middle of his bed, a magazine open in his lap and his heart racing. Music drifted from his stereo, an old song from a CD his Mom gave him, hypnotic organ and other stuff he couldn't name or even comprehend.

_The time to hesitate is through _

_No time to wallow in the mire _

_Try now we can only lose _

_And our love become a funeral pyre _

Before him was spread a picture of firefighters battling a wildfire in California, dense white smoke clogging the air and flames crackling lowly. He panted like a dog in heat, his erection pushing painfully against the seam of his dirty jeans.

_Come on baby, light my fire _

_Come on baby, light my fire _

_Try to set the night on fire, yeah _

His tongue darted out and licked his chapped lips. He turned the page, and his breath caught: A house on a hillside was completely engulfed, its timbers crackling and collapsing in the heart of the conflagration. His penis throbbed and a giddy titter bubbled up from his throat. Lemy liked fire. Fire was pretty. Fire was _good_. When he put his thing in Lyra and Leia, he pretended they were made of fire, and when his mother gave him suck suck, he imagined his pee pee withering and turning black as her heat enveloped it. He stole Lupa's lighter once and held it to his wiener. It hurt really bad, but it also made him cum so hard he ached for hours afterwards.

_You know that it would be untrue _

_You know that I would be a liar _

_If I was to say to you _

_Girl, we couldn't get much higher _

_Come on baby, light my fire _

_Come on baby, light my fire _

_Try to set the night on fire _

_Try to set the night on fire _

_Try to set the night on fire _

_Try to set the night on fire _

Lyra and Leia's girl things weren't as good as fire, but they were _hot_, like boiling oil, and that was good enough for him.

For now.

Soon, though, he would burn his thing off no matter how bad it hurt, because it felt good too.

The pain would be worth it in the end.

He was turning the page when the door opened. He looked up, and Leia was there, her arms crossed over her chest and her brow raised haughtily. Her lips were tight and she looked like she was a mom and he was her playing-with-matches-son. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice dripping with contempt.

Ready for fire!

Lemy nodded.

"Come on, then," she said, "and be quiet."

Lemy threw the magazine aside and got up, his bare feet padding on the carpet. Leia stepped aside and he brushed past her. The hall was dark and silent. Everyone was asleep. "Here," she said, and shoved a white plastic bottle into his hands. He held it up to the light spilling from his room and studied the label. He couldn't read, but the flaming pile of charcoal told him it was lighter fluid. Grinning madly, he uncapped it and took a big, happy sniff, his eyes rolling back into his head and his dick aching. "Come on," Leia hissed lowly, and grabbed his hand. He allowed her to lead him down the stairs and into the living room, basking in the wonderous aroma the whole way.

"Alright," Leia said, bringing Lemy back to earth. They were in front of Daddy; he was slouched in his chair and snoring deeply, his head lolling against his shoulder. A lamp cast warm yellow light across his wan face.

Leia snatched the light fluid from Lemy's hands, pointed it at Daddy's crotch, and squeezed; clear liquid shot out in a stream and splashed his jeans. "I _was _going to do this to Lacy," Leia said, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a hateful sneer, "but Daddy deserves it more." Daddy's pants and the bottom of his shirt were saturated now, and the tang of lighter fluid filled the air. She held the bottle upside down to get the last few drops, then handed it to Lemy.

"He wouldn't fuck me but he'd fuck Lupa," Leia said, "well...I'm going to fuck him." She pulled a book of matches from her skirt pocket, ripped one out, and struck it across the phosphorus strip. Lemy's heartbeat sped up at the sudden, dancing flame. Leia regarded their father with a glare. "Let's see you do other girls with no dick." She tossed the match; it landed in his lap, and with a _whump, _the lighter fluid ignited.

Lemy's jaw dropped.

It was beautiful.

Leia turned away and started past, but stopped and slipped the matches into his hand. "Thanks for taking the fall," she said and kissed his cheek, "you're a good brother."

Daddy snorted and his head whipped around, his eyes opening triedly. He saw the flames, and the pain presumably hit him; he let out a throat ripping howl and failed his arms. Firelight danced in Lemy's eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled upwards. Daddy screams were high-pitched and womanish, his vocal cords straining; the pain must be excruciating. Leia giggled and walked calmly to the bottom of the stairs, where she stopped and took a deep breath. She waved her hands over her face like an actor preparing to take the stage.

Upstairs, footsteps pounded on the floor. Leia put on her best mask of horror, and hurried up, meeting Lori at the top. "What's happening?" the woman asked, her sleep-puffed face drawn in concern.

"Lemy set Daddy on fire!"

Lori's face went white. "_What?"_

"I tried to stop him but he pushed me, please help Daddy, please!" She started to cry.

Lori shoved past her and ran down the stairs, her hand trailing the banister. Leia watched her disappear around the corner, and grinned at her horrified "Oh, my God!" She stayed there, listening; her slit moistened, and she found herself just a _little _disappointed that Lemy wouldn't be around to fuck her later. Oh well.

"What's going on?"

She turned; Lacy and Liena stood at the top of the stairs, Liena in an oversized white T-shirt and Lacy in red gym shorts and a red night shirt. They both looked worried.

"Lemy set Daddy on fire," Leia said, trying her best to sound miserable.

Below, Daddy's screams were masked by the staticky hiss of a fire extinguisher. Hopefully Lori caught him in time.

Leia wanted him to _suffer_.

* * *

Leni Loud leaned over, kissed her boyfriend Dave (or was it John? She had a _lot _and it was super hard to keep them all straight) and got out into the chilly November night, a cold wind ruffling her neatly brushed blonde hair and making her shiver despite her coat. For her, style won over substance every time, and while cute, her jacket was totes _not _toasty.

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she started up the walk, her heels clicking on the stone in, like, a really creepy way; even though she was a grown-up thirty-seven-year-old woman, she still got scared of the dark sometimes, and right now she was starting to imagine things crouching in the night, staring at her and licking their chops like hungry dogs...dogs hungry for Leni meat.

She threw a glance over her shoulder, and drew strength from the fact that Dan (or was it Kyle?) was still parked at the curb, the headlights of his car cleaving through the darkness and revealing it to be totes monster free. Yay. If there _was _a big scary monster, he would protect her. He even said, "I'd do anything for you, baby," when he was trying to get her to have sex with him the first time (or did Mark say that? Steve? Oh, she didn't know). He _better _protect her, she swallowed his icky cum earlier. Leni did not like the taste of cum but she never spit because when she was little, her mother told her to always eat what was offered to her, and if she didn't, Mom would smack her across the back of her head and ground her. _We don't, like, have all this food for you to waste, young lady, go to bed and totes _don't _come back. _Every time she had something icky in front of her, like brussel sprouts or boy gunk, she ate it all up and didn't complain; Mom wasn't around anymore, but Lincy was, and Lincy reminded her a lot of Mom because he was always mad.

Like...okay, I should be the one who's mad, you tricked me! And Lori too! That is, Lincy and Lori tricked _her, _not that Lincy tricked her _and _Lori. When she was sixteen, they came into her room one night when she was brushing her hair at her vanity and said they had a game they wanted to play. Okay! Leni loved playing games with her family, Lincy especially; he was, like, a cute little puppy dog or something, and Leni totes adored him. The game, though, was really weird: She had to take all over her clothes off and lie down, then let Lincy and Lori touch and kiss her. That was _sooo _embarrassing; she remembered laying there with the biggest, hottest blush ever and cupping her thing coly in her hands as Lincy and Lori sat on either side of her. They were naked too, and they ran their hands all over her, ever her boobs, which were, like, private. The only person who ever touched them was Dad, and then only because he had to check her for cancer or something. _It happens to little sluts your age all the time, _he whispered huskily into her ear and he played with her nipples from behind. _Don't want you losing these...they're really nice. _

Anyway, Lincy and Lori touching her body felt really wrong, but then Lori ripped her hands away from her thing and held them while Lincy put his fingers in...and it felt _soooo _good. Lol, Lori had to stick her tongue in her mouth to keep her quiet because she was panting and moaning and all _kinds _of stuff. Then when Lincy got on top of her and put his thing in her thing...she felt like she was on a cloud in heaven or something. She never knew it was possible to feel _that _good...then he shot his cum in her and she felt even better, all hot and shaky and like waves were pulsating out from the middle of her stomach. It was _really _nice.

So nice, in fact, that Leni kind of got addicted and had sex with Lincy at least once a day.

The reason she should, like, be mad was because Lincy knew that putting his boy stuff in her would make her pregnant...she did not. Her parents never gave her 'the talk' and she didn't know _that's _where babies come from. She thought, like, the birds and bees brought them the way Santa brings toys (she was twenty-five when Lincy got mad and told her he wasn't real...she cried for days). If she knew that letting Lincy break his nut in her vajayjay was going to make her pregnant, she, like, would have let him only do it at night when his soldiers were sleeping. Instead, she let him do it all the time, then one day she started feeling sick and owy and her tummy began to hurt. She thought it was, like, a bug, but nope, it was a baby.

Leni liked babies, but she didn't want one of her own...not right then. She was in the middle of working and saving up to go to The Chicago School of Design and having a baby meant she couldn't, which made her heart frown because she _really _wanted to be a deisgnist and make cute clothes.

But Lincy and Lori took that away from her.

Even now, all these years later, just thinking about it made her chest feel like it was full of hot coals. Her hands balled into fists as she reached the bottom step. She oughta go in there and give them a piece of her mind.

Actually, that, like, wasn't sure a good idea; the last time she did that, Lincy slapped her and pulled her hair so hard it brought tears to her eyes. _Keep it up, bitch, _he said and jammed his finger into her cheek, _and you and your nympho tramp daughter can get the fuck out my house._

Stupid Lincy. He thought he was _soooo _big and bad because Mom put the house in _his _name. _Here, take it; don't ever try to contact me or Lily again. _Yep, Mom thought she was so big and bad too. Well, you know what? Leni saw Lily at the grocery store all the time and they talked. She was, like, a cashier, and really nice too. She said Mom drank a lot and stayed out all the time with men, which she liked because it meant she had peace. Lincy drank a lot too. They were, like, two peas in a pot.

Lily wasn't the only one she saw...kind of. Dad messaged her on Facebook a few years ago and she gave him her number. Every once in a while he sent her pictures of his wee-wee. _It should have been me. _Uhh...okay, whatever _that _means. He said he wanted to come out and spend time with her. _My new daughters are cold fish, _he said, _the only one who lets me touch her is Layla, and she's six. Frownie face. _

So six-year-olds can get cancer too? She didn't know that.

She was at the door now, fishing in her purse for her keys. An owl hooted forlornly behind her, and she jerked a frightened glance over her shoulder: George (or was it Bill?) pulled away from the curb and drove off, his taillight dwindling.

Now she was alone.

Left in the dark.

Heart racing, she searched more frantically. Where are my keys? She closed her fingers around them, pulled them out, and flipped through them until the found the right one, the back of her neck tingling as if in expectation of a blow. She jammed the key into the lock, turned, and pushed the door open.

What she saw made her freeze.

A ball of fire sat in Lincy's chair while Lemy looked on, his arms slack at his sides. The flames were shrieking like a cat being mauled to death by another cat, and...she squinted...did it have Lincy's face?

Her mind started to work, wheels and cogs coming to life. When it hit her, her jaw dropped. Lincy was on fire!

Lori raced in from the kitchen with a red fire extinguisher in her hands. She looked _really _upset. She pointed the hose thingie at Lincy and started spraying him with white foam. The flames slowly died, and the firelight retreated from the room, leaving it cast in shadows. Lincy wailed in agony and Lori sobbed. Leni's night adjusted eyes picked out Lemy, and saw him stagger back when the fire extinguisher crashed into his chest. It hit the floor and rolled to Leni's feet like a dog greeting its master. She gaped down at it.

"_YOU LITTLE PSYCHO!" _Lori screamed.

Uh...this family had a _lot _of drama, but this was, like, too much. She turned around, closed the door, and whipped out her phone; she'd stay the night with someone.

She went to her contacts and scrolled through - fifty, eighty, a hundred names flashing by, most of them boys but some of them girls. She settled for the first name she saw and punched it, then lifted the phone to her ear. After a moment, a woman answered. "Hello?"

"Hey," Leni chirped, "my brother caught on fire and I need a place to stay tonight."

Carol Pingrey hummed suggestively. "I'll be right there."


	13. Out of the Frying Pan

Lori slipped her fingers into her hair and tugged in a gesture bespeaking madness. Before her, Lincoln sat in his chair, his body from the chest down covered in thick white foam and his face twisted into the most excruciating expression she had ever seen, his teeth clenched and his neck veins standing out. The flesh of his neck and chin was singled and blistered, reminding Lori (sickeningly) of gooey cheese pizza. The foam was beginning to drip away from his legs, and what she saw made her feel faint: A black, crispy, charred mass seeping blood, pus, and other fluids she couldn't name. Tears filled her eyes and she looked at Lemy. He stood there watching her with wide, retard eyes. Rage filled her. "GO AWAY!"

She turned back to Lincoln, her trembling hands fluttering to her mouth. Oh my God, what do I do? What do I do? Despite being almost thirty-nine, she had never been in an emergency life-or-death situation, and she froze, her muscles rigid and her mind blanking. When the light snapped on, she whipped her head around, and saw Lola, Lynn, and Lana. "What…?" Lynn started, but stopped when she saw Lincoln. She looked at Lori, her eyes widening slightly. "What the fuck happened?"

"L-L-Lemy," Lori said. She was suddenly cold. "He did this."

Lynn turned to him, and he paled. "You dumb bastard," she said, and slapped him so hard in the back of the head that he was driven to his knees, "you could have burned us up."

In his chair, Lincoln flopped his head back. "It hurts so fucking bad!" he screamed, his voice cracking. He thrashed, and began to topple forward; Lori jumped out of the way with a squeak, and he fell face first into the carpet with an agonized wail. Lori dropped to her knees. She was shaking all over now. "C-Call an ambulance," she said, and turned her tearful eyes up to Lynn.

Lynn's face was cold and hard. "No, fuck him."

Lana, standing next to her older sister, glared down at Lincoln's prone form, her brow knitted and her lips scrunched in disgust.

Lori reeled. "Y-You can't be serious. He might-he might...!"

"Let him die," Lynn said cruelly.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Lincoln was literally on the floor half-dead and they..they didn't even care!

Except for Lola; she brushed between Lynn and Lana, then knelt on Lincoln's other side. Lori's hope turned to horror when she younger girl reached into Lincoln's back pocket, slipped his wallet out, and then removed a stack of bills. She counted, grinned, and got to her feet. "There, do whatever you want with him. _I _have a breakfast date tomorrow." She shoved the money into the pocket of her nightgown and started toward the stairs just as Luan appeared. She came forward and started to speak, but saw Lincoln and stopped, her eyes widening and her hands flying to her mouth.

Lori was fighting for breath now. She had the eeriest feeling that while may have gone to sleep in Royal Woods, she woke up in the twilight zone. Lincoln trembled and wept bitterly, like the little boy he was once. "Please," Lori begged.

For a moment, Lana sneered down at him. "We can't afford anymore medical bills," she said coldly, "I'm with Lynn."

"_We can't afford funeral bills either!" _Lori sobbed.

Blowing a raspberry, Lynn waved a dismissive hand. "Just cremate him. He's already halfway there."

"_You're fucking crazy!" _Lori shrieked.

Lincoln moaned. "Take me to a hospital," he muttered.

Lynn bent at the waist, her eyes blazing with fury. "You don't deserve a hospital, bitch!"

Lori turned to Luan for help. The younger woman's face was ashen and her moist eyes were large with horror. "Please," Lori sobbed, "call an ambulance." Luan's eyes darted from her to Lincoln and back again as though she couldn't understand simple English.

"If you wanna save this sack of shit, fine," Lana said, "but no ambulances. If they see what happened, CPS will get involved and take Lemy away...they'll take _all _the kids away. I'm not losing my daughter over this piece of fucking scum." She glanced at Lemy, her eyes narrowing to predatory slits. "_Or _his firebug son."

Next to her, Lynn crossed her arms. "Why do you even care? What's he ever done for you...besides that bruise on your face?"

Lori's fingers instinctively crept to the ugly purple mark spreading across the side of her head from her hairline and across her cheek; it stung under her touch, and she remembered Lincoln clutching her face and threatening to put Loan - their daughter, _his _daughter - on the street. A ghostly trace of anger flitted across her chest, but evaporated at the sound of his soft weeping. A very large part of her hated his guts, hated the way he treated her, but a small yet very vocal part still loved him...as both a brother _and _more. The others didn't understand; she was seven when he was born, and she keenly remembered holding him in her arms, his big brown eyes staring up at her with love and wonder; she remembered feeding him and playing with him and giggling with him when he did something silly. She remembered the chipped tooth boy who, long ago, would do anything for his sisters, even if it meant hurting himself or sacrificing his time. He wasn't _always _a piece of shit woman beater - he was once the most beautiful person she had ever known, and despite her cross thoughts and words, she spent much of the past fifteen years hoping and praying there there was still a little bit of that boy left inside, and that maybe, just maybe, under the right circumstances, he would grow like a tree in a fire scorched forest, getting bigger and bigger until he was back and they could all be happy again.

"P-P-Please help me, Luan," she trembled, "please."

Luan blinked and a look of uncertainty flickered across her face, then she came resolutely forward. Together, they got Lincoln to his feet and slipped their shoulders under either one of his arms. He screamed in pain. "Tell them he was drunk and trying to barbeque," Lynn said. She snatched Lemy by the arm and dragged him to his feet. "You're lucky I love my daughter or your ass would be in the nuthouse along with your loony sister." She lead him up the stairs as Lori and Luan struggled Lincoln out the door.

"You're a real fucking moron," Lynn told her nephew as they started up the stairs. Liena, Lacy, and Lizy scattered like cockroaches when you turn on the kitchen light; Lynn looked mad, and none of them wanted to incur her wrath. "You ever do that again, I swear to God I'll cut your nuts off and make you eat them." At his door, she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and shoved him in as hard as she could; his feet tangled and he fell with a pathetic retard cry. "Come out again tonight and die." She slammed the door so hard the impact resounded through the house like a gunshot.

When Luna got back from wherever she was, she was going to beat the shit out of her; no, really, she was going to smash her stupid nose in and knock her rotting junkie teeth down her fucking throat. It was _her _fault for not taking care of her pyro son and her skitzo daughter. She -

"M-Mom?" Lacy asked. Her door was open a crack and her fear filled face stared out.

"Not now," Lynn spat and threw up her hand, "fuck off and go to sleep or something."

The door slammed, shutting off the sound of Lacy's sobbing.

Shaking her head, Lynn went down the stairs. Sometimes these people were more fucking trouble than they were worth.

When the hallway was empty, a door creaked open and a blonde head poked out like a rabbit from its burrow. And like a rabbit, her nose twitched and she sniffed the air; the faint smell of her father's burned flesh drifted into her nostrils and made her eyes roll back into her head. Ummm, I love the smell of vengeance in the evening...smells like victory. A smug smile flickered across her pink lips and she turned her gaze to the door at the end of the hall; a crack of light shone beneath. So Lemy _wasn't _going to go to juvie. Hm. In _that _case…

She withdrew back into her room and closed the door. Lizy was sitting in the middle of her bed, a model of the Titanic in her lap; she stared down at it in dejection. Tonight Leia nearly exhausted her supply of pirate jokes, only stopping when Lizy was sobbing too loudly to hear. Welp. There was always tomorrow.

Presently, Leia went to her vanity and studied herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that, her hands on her hips. She wore a simple pink nightgown with a tiny pink ribbon on the chest; the hem stopped short of her knees by a good six inches, revealing pale, creamy flesh. Her long blonde hair was down and spilled over her shoulders like the rays of the morning sun. She wiped all of her makeup off, though. She frowned. That will _not _do. She didn't care about Lemy's experience so in that regard, she could be frumpy and ugly just as long as she got off, but feeling beautiful was a key component of sex for her...which is why she couldn't really get off from having her pussy eaten. She wanted to see the love and adoration in his eyes, she wanted to _feel _his gaze ghosting over her bare skin, she wanted to be the only thing that mattered in that moment, to be his world entirely. _She _was what should matter most, and seeing in his face that she _was _made her cum so hard it _hurt_.

She sat, reached for her lipgloss, and applied some, dividing her attention between her own beautiful reflection...and Lizy's ugly one. She had those big, sad puppy dog eyes on again. Well...puppy dog _eye_. Arr.

Done, Leia applied a touch of blue eye shadow, then picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. She began to hum a tune she heard in an old movie, and Lizy lifted her head, her one eye brimming with tears and misery. Satisfied that she recognized it, Leia began to sing in a low, musial voice:

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me

We pillage, plunder, we rifle and loot

Drink up, me 'hearties, yo ho."

Lizy hung her head and squeezed her eye closed; Leia smiled when she saw a single tear streak down the little girl's _loved _making that little bitch cry.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for Lizy

She's a stupid, smelly bitch with one eye

And she needs to die."

The little girl broke down and wept bitterly, hugging the Titanic model to her chest as though it were a life ring and she was drowning. "Please stop teasing me," she hitched, her voice cracking, "I can't take anymore."

Leia laughed richly. "Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. _Pwease stop teasing me, I can't _take _anymore."_

Lizy cried harder.

Satisfied (for now) Leia continued brushing her hair, stopping only when it was beautiful and silky smooth. Should she put on nail polish too? She lifted the backs of her hands and checked. Hmmm, she _could_, but the echoes of Daddy's screams still rang in her ears, and the heavenly scent of his roasted flesh lingered in her nostrils, and with each passing moment she was getting more and more turned on: Her throbbing nipples poked through the fabric of her nightgown, and the insides of her thighs were slick with her excitement. She slipped her hand between her legs, and her heat washed against it in sickening waves.

Alright, she was pretty enough.

Pushing away from the vanity, she got up and turned, her gaze instantly going to Lizy: She clutched that stupid toy to her chest and rocked violently back and forth, her face white and drawn like that of a corpse. What a weirdo! "You're a fucking freak, you know that?" she asked.

Lizy didn't respond.

"Your mom should have aborted you."

Back and forth, back and forth. "You're like One-Eyed Willy from _The Goonies_, only uglier. No boy will ever want to have sex with you. Not even Lemy."

Rock. Stare. Stare. Stare.

Rage bubbled in Leia's chest. Lizy was so fucking pathetic she just wanted to march over there and strangle her; the thought of crushing her sister's warm, pulsing throat, and of watching her life drain from her one good eye made her heart race and her pussy ache. "The only thing you'll ever have inside of you is that stupid ship."

God, not being fucked sounded like a fate worse than death.

And Lizy deserved it. She was rocking even faster now, her eye big and empty. She looked like she was one insult away from imploding on herself. Good. Leia put her hands on her hips, bent slightly at the waist, and sneered. "No one will ever love you." She snorted. "Not that anyone does now."

Lizy's eye began to leak, but her expression remained unchanged. Leia blew a raspberry. What a pitiful waste of fucking life. You know how Leia knew there was no God? If there was, Lizy would have wounded up a wad of bloody toilet paper floating in the commode.

Whatever; she was really horny, and messing with Lizy would have to wait. "I'll deal with you later," she said disgustedly, and left the room, her bare feet padding on the carpet. Behind her, Lizy's eye blinked, and in it was something hard, something fiery.

Something like hatred.

* * *

Lori sat nervously in a waiting room off a tile-floored hall, her arms crossed over her thin frame and her fingers unconsciously rubbing circles in her pallid flesh. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was messy, and her lips were a tight white line across her wan face. Next to her, Luan clutched her purse and stared straight ahead. She was vigorously chewing her bottom lip, something she only did when she was nervous. A wall-mounted TV played unwatched, a rerun of _Three's Company_: John Ritter wore shorts so tight his bulge was clearly visible, while Don Knotts wore orange pants and an orange shirt with a funky seventies print. Lori glanced up at the screen, then away when the audience laughed at something John Ritter said.

It was almost like they were laughing at her.

At Lincoln.

She took a deep, shivery breath and looked around. Was it just her or were the walls getting closer? The air was heavier than it should be, harder to breathe, the smell of disinfectant turning her already nauseous stomach. There was something else under it, something sickly sweet that she knew, but didn't want to name: The odor of Lincoln's charred flesh.

Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. She remembered picking bits of blackened skin off of her shirt in the bathroom, and a sob escaped her trembling lips. Her hand went to her forehead and she fought to keep herself from breaking down, winning, but just barely.

She picked her phone out of her lap, swiped her thumb across the screen, and checked to see if Luna had texted her back.

Of course, she hadn't. The funny thing was, the word READ sat under Lori's text like a flashing neon narc. _Your son set Lincoln on fire. We're at hospital. _Luna saw...she just didn't give a fuck, she was having a grand old time shooting up and sucking Chunk's dick, why would she let her kids, or Lincoln, or anything else intrude?

Deep in her heart, she still wanted to love Lincoln, but she did _not _want to love Luna; of all her sisters, Luna was literally the most selfish, uncaring, and...well, no, that title belonged to Lola now. Her brother, the father of her daughter, was lying practically dead at her feet, and all she could think of was raiding his wallet. Oh, oh, actually it was Lynn. _Let him die. _Her brother, Lacy's father...how can you be so _callous? _

Tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away with the heel of her palm. She picked her phone up, swiped, and checked even though it hadn't buzzed or chimed. Nope. No Luna. READ stared mockingly back at her. _I see but I don't care; I see but I don't care; I see but I don't care. _

No one cared. No one cared about Lincoln or the kids of each other or anything but themselves. Once upon a time, they did - they were a happy, loving family and they always tried to do the right thing, even if they didn't always succeed. No one's perfect, especially when you're a kid. They fought, they bickered, and sometimes they even took advantage of each other, but they never did it with malicious forethought, and when they realized what they'd done, they did something about it. Now? Ha! Now everything was so screwed up that none of them gave a single flying fuck that Lincoln was set on fire.

He wasn't perfect - he was a real prick sometimes - but he was still their brother, he was still their kids' Dad, they still made love to him...didn't any of that count to them? How can you feel so coldly for someone you've been with? Someone whose body, whose _spirit, _was meshed with your own? Even if he's like Lincoln, how could you?

Something was wrong with them. All of them. Herself included. The kids, the house, the fucking street. She said once that she was in hell...she was right, this _was _hell, a twisted, perverted version of the family she once knew, the life she once knew.

And it all started with her and Lincoln.

It was their fault.

They tempted their sisters like the serpent tempted Eve in the Garden, and now they were being punished. Lori didn't believe in God, but she was suddenly so certain of this that a vise of claustrophobia closed around her chest. It would never end; no matter what they did, no matter where they went, the mark of Cain was upon them, and how can you hide from the wrath of a vengeful God? You can't, he'll find you and smite you into the ground.

In that moment, she felt so helpless that all she could do was hug herself and squeeze her eyes closed. Their fault. All their fault.

She didn't mean for this to happen, though. She wanted her family to come closer together - she wanted her sisters to share in her heady, heart pounding, butterflies-in-the-stomach giddy, happy, love. She didn't want them to all get pregnant and miss out on their dreams, she didn't want Lincoln to be a father for the first time at fucking twelve. She was sorry; if she could go back in time, she'd stop herself from doing what she did, she'd stop all of this from happening. Lynn could go play ball somewhere, Leni could go to design school, Luna could go play music or what the fuck ever...no one would get pregnant, no one would give up their dreams, and no one would grow so bitter and miserable that they could honestly want their little brother dead.

And their little brother wouldn't hit them.

"You think he's going to be okay?" Luan asked without turning; she faced dead ahead, her hands wringing the straps of her purse and her eyes haunted with the vision of Lincoln's charred lower half.

Lori sighed. "I don't know," she said honestly. The fire burned Lincoln from his feet to his stomach so badly that his skin was falling off in wet globs and staining the backseat; he left black skin flakes everywhere, and as they carried him into the emergency room, he dripped blood and pus on the ground the way Hansel and Gretel dropped breadcrumbs. His face was the color of milk, he was hardly conscious, and his labored breathing had a rattling quality that froze Lori's heart. She didn't know...but if she was honest...he probably wouldn't...he was so hurt he was sobbing.

Tears burst from Lori's eyes and she pressed one hand against her face. Luan frowned deeply and glanced at her hands.

Like Lori, there was a small part of her that still cared for Lincoln...not as strongly as her oldest sister, but enough that seeing him hurt so badly, and see her other sisters' unfeeling reaction, disturbed her. Many times over the years, she wished death and dismemberment on Lincoln, but to actually see him in such agony, half of his body reduced to char...she shivered and blinked back tears of her own. Lori was bent at the waist, her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking. Luan hesitantly reached out her hand and laid it on her sister's back.

That's how Lincoln's doctor found them fifteen minutes later. A slight black man with a thick mustache named Crawford (the man was named Crawford, not the the mustache), he wore a white lab coat two sizes two big, a tight pair of Chinos, and a rumpled green and white plaid shirt. Lori and Luan both looked up when he came in. He offered them a curt nod and sat in the empty seat next to Lori, turning so that he faced her.

"Is he o-okay?" Lori asked, her voice faint and watery. There was a hopeful note, like the sun peeking tentatively through a storm cloud.

Dr. Crawford nodded slowly. "He'll most likely live," he started haltingly, "beyond that, we really aren't sure. Your brother sustained sixth degree burns to almost thirty percent of his body, and fourth degree burns to another fifteen. He's lucky to be alive."

Lori blinked in confusion. "Sixth degree?" She thought burns only went up to third degree.

Dr. Crawford nodded again. "Sixth degree burns are the most severe. Let me put it this way: People are like onions. They have layers. Fire burns away those layers, starting with the epidermis. The more intense the fire, the deeper it goes. Sixth degree means that the fire...the fire burned bone. Lincoln's legs were the most badly affected area, and we were forced to amputate them."

Lori's hand flew to her mouth and a strangled sob escaped her lips. Beside her, Luan went entirely white.

"He's not out of the woods just yet," Dr. Crawford said, "and...from here, it's going to be a long, arduous road to recovery. And things, I'm afraid, won't be the same at the end of it all."

No, Lori figured, they wouldn't be. Just when you think things can't possibly get any worse, they do.

They always fucking do.

* * *

Leia slipped into her brother's room and softly closed the door behind her. He was curled up on his side and facing the wall, golden lamplight falling across the bed and casting him in muted warmth. He glanced at her, then turned pointedly away, scooting closer to the wall like a dog on the arrival of a cruel and hated master. Leia's lips peeled back from her teeth in a hateful sneer. What the fuck was _that _about? He acted like she kicked him or something rather than giving him the best sex of his life. Ungrateful little 'tard.

A rush of anger came over her, but she pushed it away. "Hi," she said, trying to sound sexy but sounding strained and annoyed instead.

Lemy curled up tighter, his knees touching his chin.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she snapped.

He grunted in defiance.

She started to stalk forward, intent on clawing his eyes out and turning him into Lizy-with-a-dick, but she stopped herself and took a deep breath. Serenity now. "What is wrong?" she asked.

"Got Lemy in trouble," he said sullenly.

Leia made a small, dismissive noise in the back of her throat. Was _that _all? You got grounded...for the night...how is that 'trouble'? If _she _was aunt Lynn, she would have pulled his pants down and beat his bare ass with a belt until he looked like a Mississippi slave. That aunt Lynn only yelled at him and put him in his room revealed what a weak, limp-wristed, pathetic pushover she was. He set a man on fire! (Well, _she _set a man on fire, but still). If you can't muster up enough indignation to give him an asswhipping over that, you're pitiful.

Not that Leia didn't know that already. _All _the grown ups here were pitiful.

Putting that aside for now, she crossed her arms. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to keep the snotty insincerity out of her voice. Usually she wouldn't say those two awful, bullshit words, but she was horny and getting her pussy fucked was all she cared about right now. "I didn't _know _you'd get in trouble."

Lemy didn't reply for a moment. "Go 'way. Lemy _mad_."

Leia's face fell. _Oh? _She pushed herself away from the door and crawled onto the bed, Lemy glared at her but didn't do anything as she walked across the bed on her knees because he was a little bitch. She swung one leg over and shifted onto the side of his leg, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing her soft folds and making her breath catch. Lemy stared at the wall with a shitty little expression on his face, his brow knitted and his lips tight. She had half a mind to punch him.

Instead, she whipped out the secret weapon of evil bitches everywhere (and yes, she _was _evil, thank you very much). She grabbed Lemy by the chin, turned his face to hers, and leaned in until their noses were almost touching. "Fuck me or I'll tell everyone you raped me."

He stared at her with the blank expression of a retarded pyro who could barely comprehend how to put his shoes on. Leia drew an angry breath. "Have sex with me or you'll _really _get in trouble," she clarified.

His eyes widened with fear, and Leia grinned smugly. Got'cha.

"Are you going to have sex with me, or am I going to get you in trouble?"

"S-S-Sex," he stammered.

"Good." She pushed herself up and pulled the nightgown over her head, tossing it aside. She rolled off of Lemy and onto her back, where she spread her legs and planted her heels into the mattress. Lemy sat up and pulled his pants down, his movements slow and robotic. When he was naked from the waist down, he positioned himself between her legs. His penis was hard despite him _not wanting to, boo-hoo_. He didn't' immediately enter her, though; he looked down at her with that dumb face of his. She flashed and shot out her arm, raking her nails across his cheek. He cried out. "Don't just look at me, shit-for-brains, fuck me."

With a mixture of blood and tears running down his face, Lemy thrusted into his little sister, and she gasped at the sensation of him filling her. She stared him in the eyes the entire time, her arousal rising as his tears came faster, mixing with his blood and dripping onto her fevered flesh. For her, sex was about feeling beautiful and desired, but she discovered something as her sobbing, bloodied brother reluctantly rutted into her: It was just as hot when your partner was unwilling and _you _wielded all the power. Holding their life in the palm of your hand, making them do what you wanted them to do, seeing the terror and shame in their eyes. Her eyes narrowed to slits as her orgasm hit her, and she fisted the blankets, her hips bucking up and her teeth clamping her bottom lip.

Lemy didn't finish, but that wasn't important. She shoved him off and he curled up next to her on the bed, his body starting to tremble and his dick rapidly deflating, its purpose served. Leia snuggled deeper into the bed, her body quivery and pleasantly warm in the afterglow of her climax. She giggled and turned her head to her brother. He was shaking and crying silently. "That was really good, Lemy...I never thought a fucking retard like you could fuck so well. Hm. Guess I'm _not _always right." She got up, snatched her nightgown from the floor, and slipped it on. She turned, and Lemy was still crying like a pussy. She rolled her eyes. "God, you make me sick. If it wasn't for your dick, I'd set _you _on fire."

He quaked like the almost-useless pile of jelly he was. Leia blew a disgusted _pfft _and left the room. That was really fun - would it be as fun if she did it to one of her sisters? It wouldn't be entirely the same, but as long as the feeling of godlike power came over her, what did it matter? She'd have to see if Lyra or Liena had a dildo or something she could use.

And she knew just the one eyed freak to use it on.


	14. Suffer the Children

_Crack._

_Sizzle._

_Pop._

Lori tossed the eggshell at the trashcan; it missed and landed on the floor. Normally she would walk over, pick it up, and throw it away, but today she didn't care; she barely cared enough to roll out of bed. As far as she was concerned, the fucking shell could stay.

Standing at the stove in a blue, threadbare bathrobe, her blonde hair frizzy and sticking out at weird angles, dark bags under her bloodshot eyes, she looked a mess...but she felt even worse: She hardly slept last night, and when she did, visions of Lincoln plagued her dreams. At five, she came awake in the throes of a panic attack, her chest clutching and her breath locked in her throat. She spent the next two hours sitting up in bed worrying and chewing her nails. Lincoln, everyone failed to realize, was…

That thought dropped off when Lynn entered the kitchen with a loud, obnoxious yawn. She wore red shorts, a white T-shirt, and socks pulled up her calves. She scratched the small of her back and smacked her lips together like an animal tasting the morning air. "Did you make coffee?" she asked.

"Yes," Lori said tightly and flipped the egg.

Lynn sat at the kitchen table. "Well...can I _have _a cup?"

"Get it yourself," Lori replied, a keen edge in her voice.

Before Lynn could reply, Lola came in clad in a pink dress that stopped just above her knees. Without a word, she crossed to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and poured.

"I thought you had a date," Lynn said, leaning to one side and draping an arm over the back of the chair.

Lola hummed as Lori transferred the egg from the skillet to the plate and cracked another. "I do." She turned and took a sip from her mug. "I was just leaving."

Wasn't anyone going to ask about Lincoln? He was set on fire last night and rushed out of here half-dead. Even if they hated him weren't they _curious? _Didn't they understand that…?

"So," Lynn asked, "did Linc make it?"

Lola snorted as though the idea of him _not _making amused her. Lori bore down on her teeth and jammed the flat of the spatula under the egg. "Yes," she said tightly, "he did. They had to cut his legs off."

Crashing silence filled the room, and Lori was just beginning to think they understood the gravity of their predicament when they both started _laughing_, Lola bending at the waist and Lynn smacking the table with her palm. "They take his balls too?" Lynn hitched.

"Not that he had any before," Lola added.

Nuclear rage detonated in Lori's chest. "IT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!" she screamed and spun on her heels. Lynn recoiled and Lola's laughter died on her lips. "Don't you fucking morons get it? Lincoln can't work, therefore _we _have no money. Who's going to buy groceries now? Who's going to pay the bills? _You?" _

Lynn started to speak, but Lori cut her off. "Shut the fuck up. Neither one of you work, Luna doesn't work, _I _don't have a job...the only one with an income is Luan, and that's not much." She was trembling all over, her heart slamming like a drum. She saw understanding flicker across Lynn's stupid face, and the fact that she only _now _got it made Lori so fucking mad she wanted to go over there and throttle her. "We are _fucked_. Lincoln's going to be in the hospital probably for months. What are we going to do?"

"L-Luan can pick up extra shifts," Lynn offered."And go back to hooking."

Lori's jaw dropped. Did this dumb fucking _shit _just suggest Luan work extra? Of course she did, because she was a lazy fucking peaked-in-high-school fucking jock who went on and on about the time she scored a game winning touchdown in tenth grade forty fucking years ago. She walked around with a fucking chip on her shoulder because _boo-hoo Lincoln got me pregnant and I couldn't go pro_. YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE GONE PRO! GROW UP AND GET OVER IT!

She didn't realize she was speaking her thoughts until the reverberation of her shaking voice bounced back to her own ears She didn't care. "_You _need to get a job," Lori said and jabbed her finger at her younger sister. She wheeled around, and Lola cringed. "You too. My food stamp card is now off limits. You want your fucking kids to eat, you'll get a job."

"Greedy fucking bitch," Lynn sneered.

Lori whipped her head around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Lynn said.

"I do _everything _in this house. I cook, I clean, I take care of your fucking kids while all of you ignore and neglect them. Nine times out of ten, _I _buy groceries, _I _buy them things they want. What the fuck do you do?"

Lynn's eyes narrowed. "I don't neglect my daughter."

"Oh, yes you fucking do," Lori spat and rolled her neck. Her hands were clenched into fists, and part of her hoped Lynn tried something; beating her in the face would feel _soooooo _good right now. "She found out she was pregnant, and did you console her? Support her? No, you instantly started a fight with Lincoln. You don't care about her."

Hot red color touched Lynn's face, and her lips pursed; her right hand clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched.

Next, Lori turned to Lola, who simply stood there with a dumb, awkward expression on her face. "And _you _let him fuck your six-year-old. In front of God and _everyone_. You're a piece of shit, bitch, fuck you, fuck all of you." The smell of burning egg filled her nostrils, and she spun back to the stove. "Yeah. Fuck you. We're all fucked. Either get jobs or sit in the dark with no food. Not that any of you care, _I'll _be the one saddled with taking care of your kids, fucking freeloading scumbags."

Lola jumped when Lynn slammed her fists against the table. "Fuck you, Lori. You think you're so much better than us - "

"I _am _better than you, sweetie," Lori hissed.

Lynn jumped to her feet. Her face was as red as her shorts now. "I don't need this shit," she said.

"That's right, run away," Lori said. She snatched another egg from the carton. It broke in her hand, and she angrily flung it into the sink. "Run away from your responsibilities. God knows Lynn Loud Jr. can't be bothered to deal with the consequences of opening her legs for her brother."

"Lincoln - "

"Didn't rape you, honey. I'm getting really sick of you bitches acting like he did. _You _spread your fucking thighs, _you _let him finish in you, it's _your _fault."

"Fuck you, Lori," Lynn said. "You and Lincoln have can each other; you're just alike anyway."

Before she knew what she was doing, Lori was grabbing the skillet and turning, was flinging it. Lynn's face paled and she ducked; it slammed into the wall, grease and bits of burned egg splattering the plaster. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" Lori roared and stabbed her finger at the doorway, where Lana and Luan stood, both of them looking confused and slightly afraid. Lynn stood to her full height and regarded Lori with murderous eyes. Lori was ready; she was ready to rip that bitch apart then move onto the others. She'd tear this whole fucking sorry place to the ground, she'd destroy everything in her rage, fuck it, fuck them, fuck their kids, fuck everything, fuck Lincoln, fuck Leia, fuck this so-called family, fuck Mom and Dad and FUCK EVERYGODDAMNTHING!

"Fuck you, Lori," Lynn snarled. She turned and stormed out of the kitchen, brushing past Lana and Luan. Lola took a nervous sip of her coffee and stared off to her left as though she'd found the most _interesting _floor tile to study. "There's your goddamn breakfast," she said and turned the stove off. "I'm _done_. It's every man for himself now."

She shoved away from the oven and stalked out. In her room, she dropped onto the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands. Her breathing was ragged and her lips quivered, but no tears came. She was done, spent, entirely out. She tittered and shook her head. Something had to happen; they couldn't go on like this, not with Lincoln out of commission, not with everyone so selfish and emotionally crippled.

At this point...they'd be better off dead.

* * *

Leia Loud had one thing on her mind and one thing only: Raping her little sister. She initially conceived the plan last night after doing the same to her big brother (he liked it, though, no matter _how _hard he cried). Laying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, she ran it through her mind a hundred times, tweaking it here and there as needed. She was so excited that she could barely sleep, and at one point got up and stood over Lizy's sleeping form, a twisted smile on her face. _Just wait, you little bitch. _

That Saturday morning, she came slowly and peacefully awake in a warm bar of sunshine, her eyes fluttering open and the corners of her lips turning sharply up. She stretched like a cat, and the soft kiss of fabric against her girlhood made her giggle and bite her bottom lip. She turned her head and grinned at Lizy's sleeping form. _Later, little sister...later. _First, she needed to pee. She swung her legs out from under the covers, got up, and went out into the hall, her nose pinching at the awful stench that had become the norm lately. Why does it stink so bad out here? Sigh. These people are disgusting.

In the bathroom, she lifted her dress and sat on the toilet, the seat cold against her warm flesh. She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her upturned palms. If Lyra or Liena didn't have a dildo or something, what could she use on Lizy? Being three, Lizy's pussy hole would be very small, so it didn't have to be _big, _though she'd prefer if it was: She wanted it to hurt. _Stop, Leia, _she could see the little girl crying, _you're ripping me! _There was the TV remote, that might work. Or...maybe she could make Lemy rape her. Hmmm...no, she wanted that little creep to herself. Oh well, she'd find _something_.

Done, she grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped, a shiver going down her spine when her middle finger brushed her clit. Ummm. She should masturbate.

No, she'd save _that _for later.

In her room again, she slipped out of her nightgown and tossed it into the dirty clothes hamper. Lizy was still in bed, curled up on her side and facing the wall. Leia didn't know whether she was asleep or awake, but she spoke to her anyway. "We're going to play a game later" She opened her top drawer and took out a pair of white panties. "I think you'll like it." She bent and pulled them on.

Lizy didn't reply, didn't move. For some reason, though, Leia was suddenly sure the girl was awake and listening. What a _creep_. "We can play it after breakfast. If you want."

Still no response. Whatever.

Dressed now in a pink shirt and a dark gray vest over a white shirt, Leia crossed to her vanity and sat down. In the mirror, Lizy was unmoving. It was almost like she was dead. That made Leia smile. One day she'd kill the little twerp...maybe...but not soon: She enjoyed playing with her too much, the way a cat plays with a mouse.

Humming, Leia put her blonde hair into long, flowing pigtail and clamped them in place with purple clips shaped like butterflies. Her eyes darted to Lizy's reflection when she thought she saw movement. She watched it for a long time, waiting for the little bitch to do it again, but she didn't.

"Come on if you're hungry," Leia said and got up. She left the room without another word, and waited at the top of the stairs for a moment before going down. Guess she wants to be molested on an empty stomach. Leia snickered to herself as she went through the living room and into the kitchen. Dumb twat. Did she have any idea what a waste of life she was?

No.

But Leia was going to make damn sure that she _did_.

She entered the kitchen and halted.

It was empty, the sun dappled floor a desolate wasteland populated by nothing and nothing alone.

Really? Lori couldn't get off her fat ass long enough to make breakfast? Typical. No one around here did _anything_...oh but they acted like they did, and then they had the audacity to play the 'I'm-a-grown-up-and-you're-just-a-kid" card. Pfft. If _that's _being grown up, she'd hate to see what being immature looked like.

Guess I'll get my _own _food. She went to the pantry and opened it, her hand going to her cocked hip. Scanning the shelves, she saw odds, ends, and mix-matched items that couldn't form a coherent meal if they tried. Her stomach rumbled and she threw her head back with a frustrated sigh. Why was there never anything to eat in this stupid house?

Maybe there was something on the top shelf. She went to the table, grabbed a chair, dragged it over, and climbed on. She swept her gaze across the shelf, and grinned when it fell upon a half pack of Saltine crackers. Bingo.

She ate them as she went back upstairs; they were stale but when you're hungry, stale doesn't mean much. Lizy was still in bed like the lazy sack of shit she was, and Leia rolled her eyes. You know what? She'd had enough of this. Back in the hall, she went to Lyra's door, which stood ajar, and knocked. After a moment with no reply, she stuck her head in: Liby was sitting on the edge of her bed with a doll hugged to her chest, putting Leia in mind of a scared little girl whose Daddy was hitting her Mommy in the next room. Leia rolled her eyes again. How fucking pathetic. Was she really the only _normal _one in this whole family? She glanced at Lyra's bed: It stood empty and unmade, the bedclothes a messy tangle. Perfect.

Ignoring her retarded older sister, Leia went in, padded to Lyra's dresser, and opened the top drawer. Let's see, there's _gotta _be a vibrator or something in here. She sifted through socks and underwear, but found only a little baggie with green stuff in it. Of _course _she's a drug addict; like mother, like daughter.

Next, she went to the nightstand. Liby watched her with trepidation, the way a girl would watch a small but potentially dangerous animal.

No vibrator.

What, does she use her fingers? What a basic bitch...fifteen and still poking it with her index finger like an eight-year-old who'd just discovered the joys of self pleasure. Take it to the next level, will you? She turned, and speak of the Devil, there she was now, standing in the doorway in nothing but a towel, her long brown hair wet and matted and her eyes as big around as dinner plates, as though Leia were a space alien instead of a ridiculously cute little girl. "W-What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with accusation and...fear? Pfft.

"Don't worry about it, Skitz," Leia said distastefully, "I was just leaving."

She slammed the drawer and started across the room. Lyra stayed where she was, her hand clutching the towel and her lips parted. "Move," Leia snapped, and the older girl stepped aside, her fevered eyes following Leia suspiciously. Leia ignored her: She wasn't concerned with her psycho sister right now, her mind was on...other things.

At Liena's door, she drew back her hand and knocked. She _had _to have a vibe with as much as she _looooved _sex. Leia overheard Lynn make a joke once about Liena liking it so much because when she was 'plugged' into Dad her IQ rose fifty points and she went from being a retard to just stupid. That made Leia laugh until tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Yeah?" Liena came back, her voice muffled.

"It's Leia," Leia said, "I need help."

Liena didn't reply for a long time. Leia was about to just open the door and go inside when the older girl called out. "O-Okay, come in."

Leia opened the door, and a nauseating wave of sickly-sweet odor shoved her back. Her face crinkled and her hand went to her nose. "Jesus, what _is _that?"

"Nothing," Liena said. She sat Indian style in the middle of her bed, her hands resting in her lap. She flashed a big, toothy smile.

This isn't a cartoon, honey, you're not fooling anyone...you're up to something. Not that I care. "Do you have a vibrator I can borrow?" she asked into her hand.

Liena blinked. "A-A vibrator?"

"Yes," Leia replied shortly, "a vibrator."

Liena stared at her in confusion. "But, that's like, _way _too old for you."

What a fucking idiot! "Liena, I've had sex with Dad and Lemy. I _think _I can handle a fucking vibrator."

Speaking of Dad, did he live? She'd have to ask Lori or something. Remind me in case I forget.

Shurgging, Liena got up, went to her drawer, and pulled out a purple hunk of plastic with a curved edge. "Here," she said and handed it to Leia, "like, clean it before you give it back."

"Will do," Leia said absently as her eyes caressed the purple pussy plower. She didn't know exactly how long or wide it was, but she did know this: It would split Lizy in half. A wicked grin spread across her face and she turned from her older sister without another word. Down the hall, she slipped into her room, threw a cautious glance left and right, then shut the door, her thumb catching the lock. Lizy was where she left her, facing the wall and not moving a muscle. Oh, she was about to move _plenty _of muscles, though...mainly butt muscles.

Leia was going to put it in her ass, is what I'm saying.

"Oh. Lizy," she said with a playful hilt, "I have something for you." She pressed a button, and the vibrator started to hum.

In her bed, Lizy trembled. She didn't know what was coming, but she knew she wouldn't like it; she never liked _anything _Leia did. Her stomach rolled sickly and she jammed a comforting thumb into her mouth. Why did she hate her so much? Lizy only wanted to be close to her...only wanted Leia to love her...

She closed her eyes against a rush of tears and steeled herself for whatever Leia was about to do.

Even so, she could never have been ready for what she actually _did_.

* * *

Lupa lit a cigarette, inhaled, and blew out a sharp plume of smoke that rolled and danced in the air like a gathering of phantoms.

In the next bed over, Lacy drew a deep breath and wiped her tearful eyes with the cuff of her gray sweater. It was baggy and came down to her knees because it wasn't really hers, it was Dad's. She slipped it out of her dresser last night and put it on; his smell clung to it and comforted her. She hated him for what he did to her and their baby (and to Lupa), but she also pined for the way things used to be, for the long nights he would hold her in his strong arms and pepper her shoulders and the back of her neck with tender kisses. She was so damn _happy _then, her heart filled with love and her mind filled with visions of the future - marriage, babies, a little house somewhere, just him and her and their endless love.

Thinking about it now, feeling its loss as a sharp ache in her chest, she sighed and hugged herself. She'd forgive him if only he'd wrap his arms around him the way he used to, if only he'd kiss her and gaze longingly into her eyes...if only he would love her.

Lupa tapped her ash on the floor and took another drag. She sat with her back against the wall and her battered legs stretched out in front of her in a V. The glass ashtray on her nightstand overflowed with butts and empty soda cans clustered around it like a circle of men around a kneeling woman in one of the porns Lacy watched with Dad. She stole a furtive glance at her sister: She'd been wearing the same hoodie and skirt for nearly a week and she hadn't bathed. Her hair was dirty and knotted, and her complexion was a pallid shade of white. Under the tang of smoke, Lacy could smell the pungent aroma of her unwashed body, an oniony scent that made her stomach turn.

Given up...she'd given up.

And it was all Lacy's fault.

"I'm sorry," she said now, her voice weak.

Lupa took another drag and pushed it out.

"I should have done something." Her vision blurred with tears. "Please stop being mad at me. _Please_."

Puff. Blow. Emotionless and unchanging.

In the span of a few short weeks, Lacy had lost everything that mattered to her: Daddy, her baby, Lupa. There was nothing left, nothing more that could be taken away. Her eyes went to the razor on her side of the nightstand; sunlight glinted upon it like an evil wink. _Come on, little girl, you know you want to. _

Oh, she did...she wanted to close her eyes to this miserable life forever...she just didn't have the guts to do it. She tried again and again; the ugly scratches on her wrists bore testament to _that_. None were very deep...none had even really bled...but they stung nevertheless, and the memory of the blade slowly tearing her flesh sent ice dropping into her stomach.

She was starting to hyperventilate now. The walls felt like they were closing in on her and the air was too dry, stagnant. "Please, Lupa, I...I can't take it anymore."

With a contemptuous hum, Lupa flicked ash onto the floor.

Lacy hugged herself an fought to keep from crying, but she lost and gave into her tears, her head bowing and her shoulders shaking. _Please, God, kill me, just let me die._

On the other side of the room, Lupa stabbed her cigarette out and looked at her sister. Her face was hard, dark, and hateful...but something flickered in her eyes, something like sadness. She turned away and stared down at her lap, her cold, dead heart beginning to work and pump blood through her frozen veins for the first time in a week...or was it longer? She wanted to hate Lacy...she _needed _to hate Lacy..because the truth was, at her core, Lupa was in pain, and she would rather hate than admit how hurt, how tearfully _wounded _she was. And it wasn't Lacy per se, it was everything - how alone and afraid and unloved she was. Lacy kind of represented that in a way, because Lupa loved her so fucking much that she would die for her, but Lacy didn't love her enough to do the same. _No _one loved her that much...no one loved her at all. Lacy might feel something, but when you got right down to it, she was nothing more than a fairweather sister. You couldn't count on her...if you leaned on her, she would collapse like a dry rotted deck railing.

But wasn't she being unfair? When Dad was aborting Lacy's baby, what did she do? She sat on the couch locked in fear - just like Lacy did. The only difference was: Lacy was sitting on a bed. If she was _really _willing to die for Lacy she would have gotten her ass up and went to her instead of letting her terror - and that's what it was - of her father stop her. Right?

Yeah, lotta room to judge.

She was afraid, though. She didn't want to admit it even to herself, but she was - scared of Dad hurting her, scared like a little fucking girl.

Then again, did she expect Lacy to not be as well? Do as I say, not as I do?

Lupa slipped another cigarette from her pack, plopped it into her mouth, and lit it; the smoke rolled harshly into her lungs and she held it. _Lacy's a fairweather sister but _I'm _the real deal. _No you're not, shut the fuck up. If she's wrong then so are you. She hazarded a glance at her sister, her expression softening. Lacy was on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest. She sniffled faintly.

She started to speak, but stopped herself as tears flooded her eyes.

Soon...but not right now. She really, _really _didn't want to cry anymore.

* * *

_She's the leader, she's the one, she's the leader, she's coming to get you._

Lyra went to the window next to her bed, yanked the blinds aside, and peered into the backyard. It stood empty in the warm winter sunlight, but she knew they were watching her, she could _feel _it just as sure as she could feel the sunshine on her skin. She swept her gaze back and forth, then turned away.

_Don't let her kill us. Don't let her in, stop her, kill her, make her go away, save us, protect us, DON'T LET HER KILL US!_

Her hands went to the sides of her head and she pressed as hard as she could as if to squeeze the voices out. Her face screwed up in a pained wince, and a long, low moan rushed out through her teeth. It didn't work, though: They continued. _Liby left, they got to Liby, she's scared of you and she's listening to what Leia says. Leia's the devil and she's making everyone hate you. _

Lyra let go, went to the open door, and poked her head out: It was quiet...too quiet. Something was happening, something was coming, the balls were being set in motion and soon the net would close. She saw herself being held aloft like an Old West cattle hand, hanging in the town square from her neck WHILE THAT BITCH LEIA GOT AWAY WITH IT. This was bullshit! Every fucking time she turned around it was the other way. _Oh, she's psycho, she needs to take chill pills and go to bed. _But Leia pranced around and did whatever she wanted because she was "untouchable." She knew what that little girl was but she never said; _I'm going to save her, she's not evil, she's not one of them, she's a child and my sister and I love her_.

I HAVE NO SISTER! NONE OF THEM!

They're all liars and fucking skinwalkers. _They all lied! _Keep her doped so she doesn't know, keep her on fucking drugs so the show can go on and on, my friend, well, guess who's up and atom now, bitch. You _think _you can keep this from me, but I find it out every time...EVERY TIME. I let you talk me into it. _Oh, you're sick, oh, you hurt Liena, oh, go to hospital and pass GO. _I take your poison slob, I sleep, I can't live, then I smarten up because you can't keep a good girl down.

_Kill her, kill her, kill her._

SHUT UP! YOU'RE TRYING TO MAKE ME KILL HER!

She tittered and rocked on her heels. That's how they do it, they put things in your head that you wouldn't come up with on your own and they say 'kill her, kill her, kill her.' That's part of the plan, go with the flow, 'kill' Leia so they can lock you up forever, but Leia won't be dead because she's the main cause of the matter, _she's _the infiltrated. She knows all your thoughts and secrets, she's the bug, the worm, the thing that goes bump in the night. All roads lead to Rome, why don't you follow the money? You see that curtain? Pull it back and it's not the Wizard of Oz, it's fucking _Leia_. It's always Leia. She's the one bugging her room, she's the one saying _kill me, kill me, kill me. _

Lyra reached her nightstand and spun in a complete circle, her lips carving upwards in a mad smile. If I _do _kill you, I'll kill you like I mean it. You won't come back from the grave _this _time. I. Will. Bury. You.

_Bury her. Kill her. Keep the homestead safe._

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she roared. She balled her fist and slammed it into the side of her head; stars burst across her vision. Sudden tears filled her eyes. "Stop talking to me, just...stop...talking…Leia…"

In the next room over, the object of her hatred sat on her knees and slowly pushed the vibrator deeper into Lizy's rectum. The girl little made no sounds as her sister violated her; she sucked her thumb, clutched her Titanic model to her chest, and shed silent tears, her fragile toddler mind shattering a little more with every stinging, agonizing thrust of Leia's toy. It didn't hurt as badly as it did at first; the blood oozing from her tattered walls geased the way.

Leia licked her lips obscenely as she reached her sister's limit. She yanked the vibrator out, and Lizy's muscles tensed, her hips jerking spasmodically forward. Leia held it up to the light and tilted her head, her eyes locking on a single bead of blood coursing down its purple flank. It was darker than she was used to, which, she thought, meant it came from deep inside. She looked from it to Lizy's butt: Her pale, creamy cheeks were smeared crimson and her hole was bigger than it was when they started, the edges more ragged. "Your butt looks really gross now," Leia said. "It's almost as bad as your face." She held her middle and index fingers together and jammed them in with a hateful snear. Lizy let out a satisfying hiss and her rippling walls clamped around Leia's fingers. She slipped her free hand under her skirt and brushed her aching clit. "Say my name," she growled.

Lizy didn't reply; Leia scraped her sharp, manicured nails along the toddler's insides.

"Leia," the little girl said. Her voice was flat, broken.

Leia rubbed herself faster. "Again."

"Leia."

She brushed her teeth across her bottom lip; a hot blush spread across her face and her tiny nipples poked against the fabric of her shirt. "Call me Mommy."

"Mommy."

Leia threw her head back as her orgasm began to rise in her stomach. She increased her speed, her fingers mashing her clit...tearing and ripping Lizy's anus...her mouth opened and her eyes clamped shut. Tiny, labored exhalations burst from her trembling lips, getting faster and deeper as her climax approached. When it hit her, her body bucked violently and she let out a long, hitching _uuuuuhhhhhhhh. _Her muscles locked and her arousal gushed out of her in a stream. It felt like her soul was coming out. Best. Cum. _Ever._

"We'll have to do this again," she said as she dismounted her sister. Her knees shook and her body tingled pleasantly. She giggled and got up. Lizy lay there like a slug, hardly even breathing. "_Very _soon...like tonight."

She grabbed the vibrator, crossed to the door, and opened it, sparing one final glance over her shoulder. She couldn't say for sure, but she thought she'd finally done it...finally crushed Lizy's spirits.

That made her happy.

In the hallway, she went to the bathroom, glancing into Lyra's room as she passed: The older girl was peeking through the blinds as if looking for something outside. Leia rolled her eyes. Skitzos, retards, pyromaniacs...this family was like something a bad fan fiction writer would cook up just to troll people. If God was good, she would have been given up for adoption and taken in by a rich family instead of being cursed with _these _people.

At the sink, she turned the faucet on and held the vibrator under the spray. Would this make it malfunction? She didn't know, but she hoped so. She could see it now: Alone and under the covers late at night, Liena slides in slowly into her pussy...and boom, 50,000 volts. Her eyes would pop out, her hair would catch fire, and her face would melt like that Nazi's at the end of _Raiders of the Lost Ark. _

Leia giggled.

Done, she cut the sink, went out into the hall, and dropped it in front of Liena's door. On her way back to her own room, she caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. Lyra was standing in her doorway, staring at her intently, her brow furrowed and her fists clenched. Leia stopped and turned. "What's _your _problem, Skitz?"

Lyra took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She reminded Leia of an ape...a big, ugly, schizophrenic ape. Leia put her hands on her hips and tilted her head forward; her brows shot up and her lips pursed. "You have something to say?" she asked snottily.

The older girl mumbled something,

"What was that?" Leia asked. "I can't hear you, Skitz."

"_...me alone."_

"Excuse me?"

"I said leave me alone...stop trying to make me kill you."

Leia laughed long and hard. "Honey," she said, "you couldn't kill me if your life depended on it."

Out of that, Lyra only heard two words: _Kill me. _Her anger boiled over, and she shot out her hands. Leia's eyes widened when they clamped around her throat; a shocked exhalation flew from her mouth.

"STOP IT!" Lyra screamed and squeezed, her nails digging into Leia's soft flesh and closing off her windpipe. The little girl's heart began to slam and she gasped for air; there was none, and sharp panic filled her. "JUST. FUCKING. STOP."

Lyra's face was inches from Leia's now, their noses mashing together. Leia strained to breathe but couldn't. She tried to speak, but it came out as a gurgle. She flailed her arms in an attempt to drive the older girl back, but Lyra held her at arm's length. In a desperate bid for survival, Leia clawed at the back of her sister's hands, but that served only to make her madder: She squeezed harder and began to shake. Graynes tingled the edge's of Leia's consciousness, and her heart and lungs throbbed in sickly unison.

"You're done, you're done, you're done, you're not going to do this anymore, do you hear me? No more. No more."

Leia's mouth worked in a silent plea for mercy and her face was turning a deep shade of purple. Her eyes were moist, hazy, and pooled with terror. Her legs quivered and her knees knocked forlornly together...then they gave out and she fell, but her sister was there to catch her...and to hold her up.

"No more, no more, no more." Lyra's voice echoed dreamily in the corridors of Leia's oxygen starved brain. She felt warm all over, and fuzzy too. Her legs jerked limply, and she scratched weakly at Lyra's hands; her fight, and her life, was draining fast.

"No more, no more, goddamn it…"

Tears coursed down Leia's purple cheeks; his eyes strained in their sockets. Her fingers fluttered feebly against the backs of Lyra's hands. Inside she was screaming, thrashing, fighting to live, but outside, she was going slack. Something _popped _in her throat, and fiery pain consumed her. _Let me go, let me go, please, let me go, please, please, please don't kill me, please, Lyra don't kill me I don't want to die please. _Her tears came faster even as her eyes began to roll back into her head. Darkness stole over her and her brain started to fade.

_It's not fair, _she thought sullenly as she died, _it's just not - _


	15. The Razor's Edge

**In this chapter, Lori suffers a full-blown mental breakdown. What you are seeing is my attempt at showing a broken mind desperately trying (and largely failing) to make sense of everything happening around it. A more coherent version of events is depicted in the following chapter but I don't think I went far enough in explaining some of the things that happened here. For example, Lynn, at one point, says that they are going to put Leia on the curb like garbage. In actuality, she suggested burying her and Lori's mind associated that with trash (people bury trash, after all). At another point, she thinks of Lynn as "The General" because Lynn was acting like a general...barking orders, taking control, etc. Lynn also says in this chapter, "If I'm going down, you are too." She does not that say in the next chapter, meaning she did not say that at all. Lori felt that Lynn was being selfish and basically saying that through her actions.**

**We also see flashbacks to the beginning of it all, Lynn Sr. beating Lincoln, Lori and Lincoln together, that sort of thing. The Loud sisters were abused and molested by their father, and latched onto Lincoln as a surrogate...taking the love from him that they did not get from their parents. I said in the first authors' note that I wanted to write a fictionalized version of the Turpin case, and I realize that, in a way, I did. The sin kids were not the stand-ins for the Turpin children...the original characters are. Lincoln and his sisters are the Turpin kids all grown up.**

Every mind has its breaking point; Lori Loud's reached hers when she found Lyra on top of Leia, her hands wrapped around the little girl's throat and her teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes going to Leia's face: Her skin was blue, her lips were mashed together, and blood from broken vessels filled her eyes.

In an instant Lori knew she was dead.

She didn't know what happened next, but when she came back to herself, Lynn was pinning Lyra to the ground and Lana and Luan were kneeling over Leia's supine body, the latter with her hands covering her mouth and the former feeling for a pulse in the girl's crumpled neck. Lyra screamed in a mixture of pain and rage as Lynn twisted her arm behind her back. "Stop fighting!" Lynn growled. "Or I'll fucking break it!"

Dizziness overcame her, and her ears rang as if from a blow. For a moment she didn't know where she was or even _who _she was. Eyes watched from slittied doors. She felt them on her creeping skin.

It came back to her, and her legs carried her to her niece's side. She felt like a woman in a dream, a nightmare, not in control of herself but subject to some malignant outside force. Lana glanced up at her with wide eyes. "She's dead."

Lori felt nothing but cold.

Lynn drew back her fist and pounded Lyra in the head once, twice, three times; she went limp, her thrashing ceasing as thoroughly as if a switch had been thrown. Lori looked from her to Leia.

"What are we gonna do?" Luan asked through her fingers, her gaze never wavering from Leia's face.

Lynn, standing now and staring down at her dead niece, shook her head.

"We have to call the - "

"We're not calling _anyone_," Lana said sharply. "We…" she put her hands to her head in a sign of desolation. "I don't know, alright, but if we call the police, our kids are gonna get taken away. Fuck that." Her words came out in a trembling rush.

Luan's eyes shimmered with tears as her hands fell away. "We can't just leave her! What are we gonna _do?"_

"I don't know!" Lana roared then glanced at Lori. "Call Lola."

Lori nodded but didn't speak.

Some way, some how, she found herself back in the kitchen, her hand reaching out to pick her phone up off the counter. Her arm seemed longer than it should have been, and vertigo flowed through her like icy water. She swiped her thumb across the screen. Who was she calling again? Lincoln? She hit the text icon and but somehow wound up in her memo pad. MILK, EGGS, CHEESE...her brow pinched in confusion.

Lola. That's right.

She went to her contacts list and scrolled until she found her younger sister's number. She tapped it and lifted the phone to her ear.

A loud, ear-piercing tone sounded, and she winced.

"_I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service…"_

Lori took it in stride. She couldn't take it any _other_ way right now. She walked through the house like a woman through water. Things seemed strange, distorted. The walls were tilted, framed family photos looked normal but were somehow _not_. A bed sat before her. Leia was on it. Lynn. Lana. Luan. Looking grave. "Did you call?" Lynn demanded. Lori nodded.

"Well?"

_She didn't answer._

Lynn snatched Lori's phone with a disgusted sigh and dialed the number from memory. Her eyes narrowed when she got the same tone Lori had. She threw the phone onto the bed and stormed out of the room, brushing roughly past Lori and almost knocking her down. Lori wasn't aware of this, though; now the only thing in the world was Leia's face. Dead. Blue. Luan was crying and Lana paced back and forth. She was speaking but Lori couldn't make out her words.

Something slammed with a sound like Armageddon, but none of them flinched. "She's gone," Lynn said. Something else slammed. "She fucking left, all her clothes are gone. Every fucking thing."

Laughter bubbled up in Lori's throat, and she gave voice to it, her voice hitching and her shoulders shaking. Of course she was gone. That's how it works in nightmares; we're alone holding the bag. Nothing else remains. The others looked at her like she was crazy, and maybe she was. Lynn picked the phone up and shoved it into Lori's hands. "Call Luna. Lana, help me tie Lyra to her bed."

The color drained from Luan's face. "What?"

"Shut the fuck up," Lynn said and help up her hand, "I need time to think. Come on."

Lynn and Lana leff the room and Lori texted Luna. _Your daughter killed Leia_. Something about that single sentence, so casual and to the point, made Lori laugh again. She could see Luna's expression when she opened it: Shock. _Gasp. I say, I've lost my moncile in my drink! _Luan watched her with concern. _Are you coming back? _Lori eventually typed. _No, _Luna replied, _I can't deal with this shit anymore_.

Lori wept. _I can't deal with it either. _

The little girl's face stared up from the floor of the garage, her eyes red and glassy. Lori laid a ratty blue tarp over her.

"What are we going to do?" Luan asked again. Lyra's wrists and ankles were lashed to the bedposts. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips worked silently. An ugly bruise crept across her forehead.

Lynn's fingers were threaded through her hair and you could _see _the wheels and cogs turning in her mind as she tried to think. The kids. The cops would take the kids if they knew. The center cannot hold, things were out of hand, death had come to the Loud house, and madness too. "We'll bury her."

Cold moonlight cascaded down like silvery rain. Crickets chirped in forlorn symphony. Lori dug the blade of the shovel into soft earth and threw a clump of dirt over her shoulder. Leia lay in the grass, her upturned face bathed ethereal.

_NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE_

Lori looked up from the cutting board. It was dinner time. Or lunch. The screaming was coming from upstairs. It sounded like Lyra.

"Until then we'll put her in the garage." Lynn sounded like she had all the answers., but she didn't look it. Miss-I'm-Lynn-Fucking-Loud-I-Can-Do-Anything-But-Parent was pale and drawn, her eyes dark pools of anxiety. It wasn't night, but Lori saw her face cast in lamplight anyway, flickering and dancing like the fires of hell. "If anyone asks, Lola took her and left." Lola left? Right. She remembered now. Luna left too. Rats deserting a sinking ship. No money, seven bucks on the food stamp card and three weeks left in the month, a girl tied to the bed.

"_GET BACK IN YOUR FUCKING ROOM!"_

Lynn rushed forward and raised her hand. Lacy's eyes widened and she stumbled back, losing her balance and falling on her ass. "_NO ONE COMES OUT OF THEIR ROOM!" _

_Chink!_

The blade hit a rock and Lori bent to move it.

Lulu was crying. Lizy stood in her doorway, staring into space, her face slack, lips parted. "Get your sister," Lynn said and shoved the little girl toward Lulu's room. Luan and Lucy were moving Leia's body from the hall. Lori saw them from the corner of her eye but not full on. She wouldn't look, she _couldn't _look.

The dead girl nestled in her arms like a baby, her head resting in the crook of her elbow and her legs hanging limp. She was heavy and her skin was cold. Lori stared straight ahead as she carried her down the stairs.

_Are you coming back?_

Time went by.

_No. I can't deal with this shit anymore._

Lori was sitting on the edge of the bed, and it all came crashing down. She dropped the phone and sobbed into her hands. "I can't either," she moaned, her head shaking slowly back and forth in denial, "I can't either."

"You're gonna fucking have to," Lynn said. "Lana, come help me tie Lyra up. We can't have her running around."

Lana got up and they left the room.

"_I'm sorry, this number is no longer in service…"_

Lola too?

Lynn put her hands on her hips and stared down at Lyra. "We'll put her in the garage...then tonight we'll bury her."

"What about _her?_" Luan asked and nodded toward the schizophrenic. Soft firelight flickered across the wall.

For a long time Lynn stared at her niece. "Same with Leia. Her mother ran off and took her." Lyra fixed Lori with blood filled eyes and Lori held her gaze, transfixed. "But what are we going to _do _with her?" Luan worried. "We could take her to the hospital," Lana offered. "I mean...no one has to know she killed Leia. Right?"

_Too risky, _Lynn said, _what if she talks? What if people start asking questions?_

Lori laid Leia out in the grass and started to dig. Leia watched, her lips parted. Lori stole glances at her as she worked.

"Luna says she's not coming back either."

Lynn sneered and took the phone away. She read the text, then spun and smashed the phone against the wall. "FUCKNG BITCH!" She raked her hand through her hair and paced back and forth like an animal in a cage. Lana, Luan, and Leni stood side-by-side-by-side, chests thrust out, arms at their sides. Their faces were blank. Awaiting orders. "God-fucking-damn it, god-fucking-damn it, god-fucking-damn it," Lynn said through her teeth, wheeling on her heels then back again. "Now this shit's on _us!" _

"OH MY GOD!"

Lori glazed dazedly at Luan. Her trembling fingers covered her mouth and her wide eyes were dark with horror. Lyra was on top of Leia, her knees caging the girl's tiny body. Her hands squeezed...squeezed...squeezed. Lori imagined she could hear Leia's delicate throat bones cracking under pressure. Lynn rushed up the stairs, saw, and sucked air. "Move," she grunted and brushed between them.

"_AHHHHHHHHHH!" _

Fire filled the world. Lori raised the extinguisher and pulled the trigger: White foam leapt from the nozzle. She was sobbing and skirting the verge of insanity; the smell was awful, the sound of flesh crackling worse. Lincoln's face was a mask of agony. _Can I come back inside? Uh...no, that's not such a good idea. _He was standing at the back door, a blue blanket around his shoulders and Bun-Bun, his stuffed rabbit, hugged close to his chest. She was getting a midnight snack when she saw him peering through the window. _Can I come back inside? Please? I'm cold_. He's bad luck, she told herself as she went back upstairs, he'll ruin us all, kill us all, impregnate us all, and I'll help him...I'll be his muse, his spark, the virgin to his dark Christ. We are dead and this is hell.

Now, Lynn slammed into Lyra like a freight train; knocking her off and spearing her into the wall. Her grasp on Leia's neck released, and the little girl's head flopped back against the floor with a hollow thump.

She _meant _for it to happen..._wanted _it to happen. She was fragile, weak, a baby bird lying on the ground with a broken wing...and Lincoln was the kind-hearted little boy who took her in and fed her worms until she was better. Somewhere along the way she fell for him. Ew, your brother, yes, my brother, I know, it's terrible but he's...he loves me. Dad doesn't love me he only loves touching me; Mom loves touching the bottle; Bobby loved me putting out only I didn't so what was there to love? She was mean because she hurt...she hurt so fucking bad. The others were scared off, but never Lincoln; no matter what she did, he was always there, why? She didn't know but she liked him being there...and she wanted him there forever.

"What happened?"

Leni's voice was worried. She had just come up the stairs on her way to the bathroom. Lori was in the kitchen when she got home. Like Bobby, Leni was fucking Carol Pingrey only she wasn't really Carol Pingrey anymore, she was Carol Santiago. Lori took _great _satisfaction in knowing Carol was cheating on Bobby the way he once cheated on her.

"We're putting her in the garage," Lynn said. She was pallid, wan, like a corpse. "This shit's on us now."

_You're acting like a fucking child, Lincoln; grow up and face the music, you're going to be a father._

He was sitting at the foot of her bed, his shoulders slumped and his head hung low. He kept ditching her to play with his little friends and fuck their sisters. She sat in bed pregnant and big as a house and he went to the arcade with that little Ronnie Anne slut. Her hormones were up and down, and half the time she _seethed _with rage. When he came home this time she slapped him across his face: A red, angry handprint marred the flesh of his cheek. She felt bad, but he needed to man up. She needed him...their _baby _needed him.

_Chink._

Three feet down now, the soil rocky, thin. Lori jammed the blade into the dirt and shoved her foot against it. A cold wind blew but she didn't feel it.

_I want a baby too, _Lucy said, _a testament to our forbidden sin._

_I don't want anymore, _Lincoln told Lori. He was growing weary, frustrated. Lori was too: So many kids, so much work. _Can you, like, watch Liena? Can you watch Lyra for me, sis? I'll owe you. _Lucy was supposed to be the last but there were more. Lori always suspected Lola poked holes in the condoms out of spite: Everyone _else _had a Lincy baby, so why not _me? _Then Lana...she badgered him for two years and finally he caved and gave her Lizy. Lulu was a test tube baby Lisa cooked up without Lincoln knowing. She collected his sperm...stole it and made a fake baby. Hahahahahahaha.

_Chink._

Lynn yanked Lyra's arm up between her shoulder blades and the girl howled in pain. Luan and Lana flew to Leia's side. Lori simply watched.

"_Let me go!"_

She was covered in piss and shaking with psychotic rage. Her wrists strained against her bonds and her head whipped back and forth. "_Let me fucking go!"_

_Dinner. I have to make dinner. _

She shuffled into the kitchen and stared into the pantry, her mind trying but refusing to work, sputtering like a dying engine block. It didn't compute, nothing computed. She laid Leia out on the concrete floor, her head coming to rest in the middle of a faded oil stain. It was like a halo. Leia was no angel, though. Lori knew that. _Everyone _knew. She was a spoiled little brat and self-centered just like her mother. She _was _beautiful, though. Wasn't she? Lori could hardly remember what she looked like before. What color were her eyes? Chink. More rocks. She was four feet now but she had to keep going, _just keep digging, just keep digging, digging digging digging. _

_CRACK!_

Lincoln wailed as the belt lashed the pale flesh of his creamy butt cheeks. Dad's lips peeled back from his teeth in an ugly sneer. _Are you watching, bitch? _Lori _was..._through her tears. _You dirty _

_Crack!_

_Fucking_

_Crack!_

_Pervert_

_Crack! _

_THEY SHOULD BE MINE!_

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

"We'll put her in the garage," Lynn said and stared down at Leia's body, "then we'll bury her."

"What about Lyra?" Luan asked.

Lynn considered for a long moment. "We'll keep her tied up here forever. No one can ever know about her."

The house was on lockdown. No one comes, no one goes. Just for now, today, we need time to think think _think. _

_Chink._

Five feet and counting. The surrounding ground came up to Lori's chin. We're all in here, she thought, we're all dead now.

Leia's bloody eyes bore into her as she snapped the tarp and drew it over her body. "We'll put her in the garage." Lori covered her face; the crinkly material adhered to the girl's face, outlining it in sharp angles.

_I _am _better than you, sweetie._

_Crash!_

Food and grease splattered the wall. Lynn glowered at her. _There's no escape. We're all in this together. _

"I love you, Lincoln," she gasped and ran her fingers through his hair. He was on top of her, his hips pumping and his lips pressed to the corner of her mouth. The musky taste of his penis lingered in her mouth and the feeling of his crowned head stoking her G-spot made her back arch.

"I love you too, Lori."

_WHACK!_

"Your own fucking brother, huh?"

Lori was in a heap on the floor, her cheek stinging and her eyes welling with tears. Mom stood over her, rage in her eyes and alcohol on her breath. The positive pregnancy test lay broken on the carpet: It flew from Lori's hand when her mother slapped her.

"We'll put her in the garage like trash then set her on the curb Monday," Lynn said, "as for Lyra, we'll box her and put her in the attic. Simple."

"I'm leaving," Lana said, Lizy's hand clutched in her own.

"No you're not," Lynn spat.

"Yes I am," Lana replied defiantly. "I'm done with this shitshow."

She started toward the stairs but Lynn blocked the way, a frenzied look in her eyes. Her shoulders were squared and she looked like an ape. "No you're fucking not, your ass is staying right here with the rest of us."

Lana's eyes narrowed to slits and she let go of her daughter. "You gonna fucking stop me?"

"Yeah," Lynn said, "I am."

_I love him, Mom._

Mom threw her head back and laughed. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her fat hips shook like Jello. _You don't know what love is, Lori. You're a stupid little girl. _

_I LOVE HIM, _she sobbed.

Lynn's fist crashed into Lana's jaw and her head whipped to one side. Lynn fell in and followed it with another blow, and another. Screaming in rage, Lana shoved her back and threw a punch that hit her between the breasts.

Chink.

SIx feet now, the magic number. Lori crawled out of the hole; her body shook with weariness and she could barely stand. Purple dawn seasoned the eastern sky. Stars twinkled. The moon had set and the night was alone.

Lana grabbed a handful of Lynn's shirt and rammed her forehead into the former jock's face: Blood burst from her mouth. Shrieking like an angry animal, Lynn pushed her back, and she fell to the floor.

"We'll put her in the garage...then we'll bury her." Lynn looked at Lori and a wide, sharklike smile spread across her jagged face. "Then we'll feed Lyra to the kids."

She wept silently as she grabbed a handful of Leia's shirt and dragged her across the ground. The little girl's arms formed a V and her pigtails slithered in the dirt like snakes.

Lynn mounted Lana and smashed her in the face….and again...and again...Lizy watched with no emotion. "Stop!" Luan screamed, tears exploding from her eyes Again...again...again...all Lana could do was flail her arms. In a stroke of luck, she caught a handful of Lynn's hair and yanked. That only served to make Lynn madder, though.

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

"_THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MINE!"_

Lincoln lie on his stomach, ugly, bloody welts crisscrossing his quivering butt. Lori was huddled in a corner, sobbing into her hands. Dad shook his head and turned away, his hateful eyes falling on her and stopping her heart. He came over, and Lori cringed. He knelt, his evil eyes locking with hers. "You were supposed to be _mine_," he hissed and grabbed the front of her shirt.

The dead girl lay stretched out next to the grave. Lori pushed her in with her foot: She rolled and in a swish of blonde hair she was gone.

Lynn whipped her head around. Lana lay unmoving beneath her. "_NOBODY FUCKING LEAVES!" _She was beginning to panic. You could _see _it. "_NO ONE LEAVES THIS GODDAMN HOUSE!" _Maybe she was breaking down, too. It was _all _breaking down. Luan wept and Leni looked on in shock.

Dad jammed his finger into her face and she cried out. "_MINE!" _He drew his hand back, but Lincoln's broken, breathless voice stopped him. "Leave her alone, you son of a bitch."

"_DO YOU HEAR ME?" _Lynn was standing in the middle of the hall now. Lana was on her stomach and trying to get to her feet, but she was too punch drunk to do it. "_IF I'M GOING DOWN SO ARE YOU!"_

Lori laughed so hard she cried. _But we're putting her in the garage...no one will ever know._

A grin crept across Dad's face and he turned.

Leia looked so small in the hole...so frail. Her skin glowed with a phantom-like luminescence. Her pink skirt rode up in the fall to expose the back of her white panties.

"_Don't fight it, Linc," _she said, "_just make love to me."_

"_B-But it's wrong."_

Lori giggled at the notion of what she felt for her little brother being wrong. "_Linc...I love you...and what better way, what stronger way, to show your love for someone than by giving them your body?"_

"_DO YOU HEAR ME?" _Lynn was standing in the middle of the hall now. Lana was on her stomach and trying to get to her feet, but she was too punch drunk to do it. "_IF WE GO TO PIECES THEY'LL CATCH US! WE WILL GO TO JAIL AND LOSE OUR KIDS!"_

"_O-Okay," _Lincoln said uncertainly.

Lori smile at him. "_Don't worry, Linc; this is love...this is love…"_

Sex is love.

Luan was sobbing and Leni looked shaken.

Dad got to his feet and went to Lincoln. "You want more?" he asked. The boy was on his hands and knees now: Dad put his foot on his back and pushed him down again.

"No!" Lori wept.

_You have to be a man because there is no one else lincoln we're it you and me and the others don't you understand that dad's gone and mom's always drunk you have to grow up because we're all we have now_

A clump of dirt broke across the back of Leia's head, matting her already tangled hair.

"I wanna leave!" Leni cried. She was on her hands and knees, Lynn looming over her. "Please let me go!"

Lynn grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. "Don't you get it, you fucking retard? You will lose your daughter."

"I don't care," Leni moaned.

"_I DO!" _She slammed her fist into the side of Leni's head, and the older woman toppled onto her side.

_CRACK!_

"Stop!"

Leia was covered in a thin layer now. Her white panties were dirty. White represents virginity. She wasn't a virgin...none of the kids were because once upon a time, their father loved them.

_No more no more no more_

Lori went up the tilted stairway, her body dark against the satanic glow of a fiery red light. Her hand trailed along the bannister. The walls were charred and oozing, the floor like mud.

_JUST. FUCKING. STOP._

Orange light blazed across the sky like a spreading stain; the ground was covered in dew and birds greeted the morning with song. The world was fresh. Still. Lori dumped the rest of the lime onto the dirt then threw the empty bag away. The grave was three quarters full, a thick layer of the stuff spread out every two feet.

Leia was on her knees and Lyra was throttling her; the little girl's head flopped limply back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

_I'm not coming back. I can't handle this shit anymore. _

"_I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is out of service.."_

They both looked at her, Lyra and Leia, their faces gray and mottled, their eyes black with death, their open mouths crammed with fangs. Lori's hand flew to her mouth.

"Stop! Please stop hurting him!"

He didn't. He hurt him bad...again and again...for years, only instead of whipping away at his Flesh he whipped away at his mind.

"I'm in command now," the general said as she marched along the rank. "Your orders are to remain at your post and to not leave."

Lori rolled Leia into the hole and knelt. The girl favored her with a gap-toothed smile. _Fuck me, Daddy. _Love _me. _

"You'd be better off dead," Mom spat. "Dirty fucking tramp."

_We're all unloved. Love us, Lincoln, please love us. _

"Get back in your fucking room!"

_And we'll love you._

"Beat me instead!"

_Win or lose._

Lyra thrashed against her bindings, animal hatred on her face. Lori walked over to the shelf and picked something up. The floor was concrete and cobwebs fluttered in the corners.

_Stand or fall._

What better way to show you love someone than to give them your body?

_I promise. _

She patted the dirt with the underside of the shovel, making sure the earth was flat and even. Her muscles ached and her hands trembled, but she was clear-headed for the first time in years..maybe in her whole life.

She carried the shovel over to the back door, leaned it against the side of the house, and went inside. The atmosphere was dark, oppressive. The clock on the microwave said it was 7:01. She could go to the hospital then be back by eight if she hurried.

At the basement door, she paused, listened...then opened it...


	16. I Promise

**Stay tuned for a special epilogue **

* * *

**Lose my mind**

**And the world seems to disappear**

**All the problems**

**All the fears**

**And the world seems to disappear**

**INXS (Disappear, 1990)**

Lacy crossed her arms on her knees and rested her head; her eyes shimmered with tears and her nose was so clogged she could barely breathe. A cigarette smoldered forgotten between Lupa's fingers. The girl stared straight ahead, her throat bobbing as though she were trying to either speak or keep from crying. Lacy opened her mouth, but closed it again. What point was there? Lupa hated her, just like everyone else.

Her eyes went to the blade on the nightstand. She balked at the thought of cutting herself, but it wouldn't hurt for long, would it? Isn't there a major artery in your arm? If she severed it she could bleed out in ten minutes, maybe less. Ten short minutes and it would be over...the pain...the nightmares...the aching loss...the crushing loneliness. A memory came to her: When she was eight she made friends with a girl who was really religious, and one Sunday Lacy went to Sunday school with her. The teacher talked about God and Jesus and Heaven; she said it was paradise, and that all tears would be washed away. There's no suffering in Heaven, no death; you live forever in the sunshine of eternal happiness with the loved ones you lost on earth. Your grandmother, your father, your baby…

She reached out and picked it up. Before, it felt cold, like ice; now it was warm, inviting; she brought it to her wrist and pressed.

"_STOP IT!"_

Lacy jerked in surprise, and the razor's edge slashed across her skin with a fiery sting. She sucked a sharp intake of breath and balled her hand into a fist. Lupa turned her head, her eyes going from the oozing blood to Lacy's pained face.

"_JUST. FUCKING. STOP."_

Hissing over clenched teeth, Lacy dropped the blade into her lap and looked up at the door. It sounded like Lyra.

Lupa raised the cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke. Lacy waited for another exclamation, but none came. For some reason, that scared her. Lyra was known to have periodic breakdowns, and when she was in the middle of one, Lacy was downright _terrified _of her. She never said, and she never showed it, but she was; Lyra thought everyone was out to get her, and there's nothing more dangerous than someone who believes you're going to hurt them.

A part of her wanted to pick the blade back up and finish what she started, but another part wanted to see what was happening...to make sure Lyra wasn't coming for her with wide, crazy eyes and sharp fangs the way she did sometimes in nightmares. Her heart clutched at the thought of Lyra coming at her weakest, as her life drained from her wrists and her heartbeat slowed. She'd be defenseless...unable to protect herself.

Plucking the blade up, she shifted off the bed and went to the door. She held the razor the way a girl in a vampire haunted castle would hold a cross. Lupa watched with cool detachment. Inside, however, her heart thudded sickeningly. Screaming meant something was wrong, and when things went wrong in the Loud house, they went all the way wrong. _I want this to be over with, _she thought and took a drag. _I just want death. _

Lacy turned the knob slowly, and the door creaked open like the rusted, dirt clogged hinges of a casket dragged from the ground after a thousand years. She stepped into the hall, and jumped a foot when Aunt Lori screamed. "_OH MY GOD!"_

She stood at the head of the stairs, her hands pressed to the sides of her face and her eyes the size of dinner plates. Lacy followed her gaze...and froze. Lyra was hunched over like a hunchback apparition, her teeth bared and her face twisted in madness. Leia was on her knees before her, her face swollen and purple. Blood filled her eyes and leaked down her cheeks like crimson tears, more trickling from the corners of her mouth and her nose. Her head flopped bonelessly back and forth as Lyra shook her.

A gasp pulled her horrified eyes back to the stairs: Auntie Luan stood next to Aunt Lori, her hands covering her mouth and nose. Mom rushed up the stairs, faltered when she saw what was happening, then brushed between her sisters with a muttered, "_Shit," _and rushed forward as Aunt Lana stomped up the stairs and came to a crashing halt. Mom wrapped her forearm around Lyra's neck and yanked her back; Lyra's hands released and Leia toppled over, landing on her side. Her head hit the floor with a hollow thunk. Auntie Luan and Aunt Lana both hurried over and knelt on either side of her.

"OFFA ME, BITCH!" Lyra screamed and threw herself back, momentarily pinning Mom to the wall. Sneering, Mom hooked her foot around Lyra's and body-slammed her hard. Aunt Lori watched with a shell-shocked expression, her trembling fingers threading through her hair.

"Oh, my God, she's dead," Aunt Lana moaned, and Lacy's heart panged. Dead? _Dead? _"She's fucking dead!"

Lyra thrashed underneath Mom. Mom wrenched her arm behind her back. "Stop fighting or I'll fucking break it!"

Auntie Luan was sobbing hysterically and Aunt Lana's palm was flat against he forehead. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh my fucking God," she chanted. Mom drew back her fist and slammed it into the back of Lyra's head; the girl fell limp.

"Call an ambulance!" Auntie Luan wailed.

"No fucking ambulance, she's dead!" Aunt Lana.

"Call _someone," _Auntie Luan moaned.

Mom got to her feet and shuffled over. She looked down at Leia's body, and the color drained from her face in a rush; her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. "Oh, fuck," she trembled and ranked her fingers through her hair, "oh, fuck."

Lupa was standing next to Lacy now, worry written uncharacteristically across her pallid face.

"She might still be alive," Auntie Luan said, "w-we have to call -"

"_WE'RE NOT CALLING ANYONE!" _Mom roared. "She's fucking dead! If we call someone, we're all fucked. The kids are gone, we're in jail, fuck...fuck!" Her hands went to her temples; they shook violently.

Aunt Lana looked up at her. "N-No, it won't happen like that, we -"

"Yes it will!" Mom screamed, "I just fucking _know _it! Goddamn it! Motherfuck! Shit" She punched the air in a display of panic. "Call Lola." She ran her fingers through her hair again. "I need time to think. Time to think. Time to think Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"They won't take the kids away," Aunt Lana said, "it's…"

"_YES THEY FUCKING WILL!" _Mom wheeled around and slammed her fist into the wall; plaster cracked and Lacy jumped. "_THEY'LL TAKE YOUR KIDS AWAY, THEY'LL TAKE MY FUCKING KIDS AWAY, THEY'LL TAKE EVERY FUCKING KID AWAY!" _Her voice was high and cracking.

Terror stuck in Lacy's heart like a dagger. She'd never seen her mother so flustered. Mom was big and strong if nothing else; if she was this scared, things were _bad_.

"What do we do?" Auntie Luan wept.

Mom paced back and forth, her hands up in front of her face and her fingers hooked into talons "T-T-The bedroom, take her in the bedroom."

Lacy started to cry. "M-Mom…"

Mom's head whipped up, and the terror in her dark eyes made Lacy cry harder. "_GET BACK IN YOUR FUCKING ROOM!" _she screamed and took a jerky, threatening step forward. Lacy fell back a step and tripped, landing on her butt with a breathless _umph_. Mom spun. "_NO ONE COMES OUT OF THEIR FUCKING ROOM!"_

Lacy shook. Lupa stared wide-eyed as Lana dragged Leia's body across the floor and into Lori's room, Luan following with her hands over her face. Lori shuffled down the hall like a zombie, her cellphone in her hand.

Like Lacy, Lupa was affected by the panic of her aunts. Things went wrong alright...and this time there was _no _coming back. She could _feel _it.

Lori stood by the foot of the bed with a glazed look in her eyes. Leia was stretched out on top of the covers, her face pointed at the ceiling. Luan sat on the edge and hugged herself. Lana stood by the nightstand and massaged her temples with her fingers. "Did you call Lola?" Lynn asked.

The older woman didn't reply; she stared into space with slack-jawed confusion. Lynn flashed and snatched the phone from her hand. "Mrs. Tough-As-Nails isn't so goddamn tough now," she grumbled, "right to shit, huh, Lori? Can't handle the fucking heat." She angrily stabbed the keypad and lifted the phone to her ear. What was she going to say? She needed Lola back here _now _but she did _not _need her going to pieces. This was bad, bad, bad and deep down, she didn't think she could take the heat either.

A loud tone sounded and Lynn winced.

"_I'm sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service…"_

What?

Lynn held the phone up. It was Lola's number alright. What - ?

An idea struck her. She shoved the phone into Lori's hand and went out into the hall. This better not be fucking happening, this fucking better just fucking better not. She threw the door to Lola's room open and went inside. Nothing looked out of place. She went to the closet.

Empty hangers.

No. No, no, no, no.

She crossed to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer.

Nothing.

The second.

Empty.

Lynn's rage boiled over. She grabbed the goddamn thing and tipped it over: It hit the floor with a thunderous crash and broke into splinters. "_GODDAMN IT!" _she screamed and kicked it. "_GODDAMN IT!" _Of course she picked this of all fucking days to run off with her boyfriend. OF FUCKING COURSE!

Seething, Lynn went back to Lori's room, barely noticing that Leni was here now, her hand to her mouth and her eyes glued to Leia's supine body. "She's gone," Lynn raged, "she fucking left. All her clothes are gone. Every fucking thing." She put her hands on her hips.

"Alright," Lana said, "this is...this is crazy. We need to call the cops, someone -"

"We _can't_," Lynn said and chopped the air, "they will swoop in and take the kids and we will go to jail for neglect."

"Lynn," Lana said, "you're over -"

Lulu cried out from her room. I don't have fucking time for this. Lynn went into the hall and spotted Lizy standing in her doorway, her face just as slack as Lori's. She went over, grabbed her by the front of her shirt, and dragged her into the corridor. "Go get your sister," she commanded. Without a word, Lizy obeyed. Lynn did not notice the bloodstains on the seat of the little girl's shorts.

"If we're not calling someone, what are we doing?" Luan asked. She was no longer crying, but her eyes glistened still.

Lynn didn't know, so she paced and rubbed her temples as if to stimulate thought. Her mind was racing and her chest was tight with panic. Lincoln was set on fire yesterday, and while the hospital apparently bought the BBQ story, it would look mighty suspicious if the very next fucking day another Loud winds up there...well, two: One in the morgue and the other on the nut ward. Lynn was _not _going to lose her daughter: She never lost _anything_. Fuck that. And she sure as shit wasn't going to go to jail for letting some skitzo run free. "We'll put her in the garage," she said. "Then tonight, we'll bury her."

Lana and Luan both gaped. Lori hugged herself tightly and muttered something about 'treating her like trash.' Leni's eyes darted to Lynn's, then away. "Lynn, we can't do that," Lana said, "the school will send someone looking for her."

"Lola took her," Lynn said, "that's all we know; they left. End of story." She glanced over her shoulder. In the hall, Lyra was beginning to stir. They had to do something about her crazy ass before she killed someone else. "Lana, help me tie Lyra to her bed. Lori, call Luna."

Lynn grabbed the schizophrenic by her arms and Lana took her legs; together they carried her into her room and laid her on the bed. Liby, sitting on her own bed, watched with fear as Lynn directed Lana to get four pairs of underwear from Lyra's drawer. She did and handed them over; mounting her niece, Lynn bent over, held her right hand to the bedpost, and tied it as tightly as she could.

What we they going to do about Lyra? Leia was easy - six feet and you're done. Lyra, on the other hand…

She shoved that thought away as she bound the madwoman's other hand, then moved onto her ankles. When she was sure her niece wouldn't be able to escape, she stepped back and put her hands on her hips. Lana came up and stood beside her. "This is crazy, Lynn, it really is."

"Shut the fuck up."

In her room, Lori sat on the foot of her bed and wept into one hand. Leni sat next to her, her knees touching and her hands in her lap. She looked like she was deep in thought, which happened every once in a while. "I can't either," Lori said, "I can't either."

"What?" Lynn demanded.

"I can't either, I can't either, I can't either…"

Lynn grabbed the phone from Lori's han and read the screen. A text. From Luna. _No. I can't deal with this shit anymore. _

Luna wasn't coming back.

She was running away too.

Rage detonated in Lynn's chest; she spun and slammed the phone against the wall. "FUCKING BITCH!" She ran her hand through her hair and tugged. "Rats deserting a sinking ship...fucking _rats_. God-fucking-damn it, god-fucking-damn it, god-fucking-damn it." She was pacing again, hyperventilating. This was bad. Leia was dead, Lyra was tied to the fucking bed, and both of their mothers' were _gone_. "This shit's on _us _now," she sneered. Her eyes fell on the dead girl, and she shuddered. "Lori, take her downstairs."

* * *

Liena was so scared she could barely move, and every time she thought of Leia's face her eyes welled with tears. It was horrible, like a monster from a scary movie, and then everyone was screaming and afraid. Grown-ups aren't supposed to _be _afraid, but they were, you could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. Even now she could make out words from down the hall. "_What are we going to do with her?" _That sounded like Auntie Luan.

"_Just...just leave her here for now," _Aunt Lynn replied, "_I need time to think."_

There was a moment of silence.

"_What are we supposed to do, Lori?" _Aunt Lynn asked sarcastically, "_cut her up and feed her to the kids?"_

Liena's heart dropped into her stomach, and she hugged herself. She needed to be strong...but it was so hard. "It's going to be okay, Lo Lo," she said, her voice unsteady. The shoebox holding the fetus sat next to her. She couldn't take him out anymore because when she did he fell apart, but just having him near was enough. She leaned over and lifted the lid: He lay in three pieces on a blue blanket, his guts heaped off to one side. She reached in and stroked his head, a rush of anger coloring the back of her neck as the she remembered her father ripping him out of her arms and throwing him against the wall. _Get that thing out of my home. _That 'thing' was, like, his grandson.

But that was okay because Dad got hurt like he hurt Lo Lo, and she was _glad_.

"_We can't have her running around," _Aunt Lynn said, "_she already killed one person." _

Liena shivered. "It's going to be okay," she told the baby, even though she didn't think it was. Everyone was scared and tense and poor Leia was dead and it was so awful she wanted to cry but couldn't because she didn't want to scare Lo Lo.

Next door, Lizy stood in front of Lulu's crib, her eyes dull and her face slack. Pain radiated from her battered anus, but she didn't feel it...she barely felt anything. Lulu sat there looking up at her with big brown eyes and sucking her pacifier with an obscene squelching sound. The baby leaned forward and pressed her face to the bars, her brow pinching in curiosity, and mechanically, Lizy got down to her knees. They stared at one another for a long time before Lizy spoke, her voice flat, dead. "You're ugly and I hate you." She poked Lulu in the forehead as hard as she could, and the infant winced in pain. "One eye."

In Lyra's room, Lori leaned the side of her head against the wall and hugged herself tightly. She was trembling all over and muttering to herself. Lynn looked up from Lyra and fixed her sister with a disgusted grimace. Lana sat on the nightstand with her hands clasped to her knees and her head bowed. "What are we going to do with her then?" Luan asked. "W-We can't _leave _her like this forever."

Lynn chewed her bottom lip. She didn't know what to do about Lyra, she honestly didn't.

"We can always box her up and put her in the attic," Lana said, her voice oozing sarcasm.

"Shut the fuck up, you're not helping," Lynn said. She started pacing again, her fist lifted to her mouth. "Alright...her meds, she's off her meds. Shove a pill down her throat and when she's normal we'll let her out."

Lana shook her head. "That's too little too late. She needs a professional. Okay, we can take her to the hospital. No one has to know she killed Leia."

"Too risky," Lynn said quickly, "what if she says something? What if people start asking questions?" She stopped and threaded her fingers through her hair. "Just...put the pill in her mouth and…"

Sighing in disgust, Lana pushed away from the nightstand and started for the door. "I'm out," she said, "this is too fucking much."

Lynn paled. What? "Where are you going?"

Without reply, Lana left the room and crossed the hall to Lulu's. "Come on, Lizy, we're leaving."

Lynn's heart came to a complete stop. "L-Leaving? No you're fucking not."

In her room, Lacy sat by the door with her knees drawn to her chest and wept bitterly. Lupa sat on the edge of her bed fighting to keep her composure and losing. She picked her phone up off her bed and stared down at it. She wasn't one to call for help...even if she needed it...but -

"_You're not going anyfuckingwhere," _Lynn snarled. Lupa looked up as her aunt rushed past the door and took up a position at the head of the stairs, her face was white and she panted like a wild animal. Lana appeared with Lizy's hand clutched in her own. "_Move, Lynn. I'm done with this shitshow."_

Lacy looked up, her brown eyes wet with tears.

"_You're not going anywhere."_

"_You gonna stop me?"_

"_Yeah, I am."_

The phone shook in Lupa's hand as the sounds of commotion filled the hall; Lana cried out in pain and Luan screamed. "Stop!" Something slammed, and Lupa jumped. "_Get off me, bitch!" _Lana howled. Lacy buried her face in her knees and moaned lowly. Lana screamed again.

"_Stop, Lynn, you're gonna kill her!"_

Lupa swiped her thumb across the screen and went to her contacts. She was starting to cry now herself; her breathing came in short, hot gasps and her heart blasting against her ribs with nuclear force. She put the phone to her ear and waited. _Please pick up. _

In the hall, Lynn grunted, and something crashed so hard the whole house shook. "_FUCKING BITCH!" _Three, five, a million voices chattered excitedly over each other. "_NOBODY FUCKING LEAVES!" _Lynn screamed, her voice breaking with panic. "_NO ONE LEAVES THIS GODDAMN HOUSE!"_

The line clicked. "Hello?"

"Mom," Lupa said, her tears coming faster, "please come home, Dad's in the hospital and Lyra killed Leia and everyone's going crazy and we're gonna get taken away." She broke down completely and sobbed. "I'm so scared. Please come home."

For a long time Mom didn't reply. "You caught me at a bad time. I'll have to call you back."

"_DO YOU HEAR ME? IF WE GO TO PIECES THEY'LL TAKE OUR KIDS AND PUT US IN JAIL!"_

"Please, Mom," Lupa begged.

"I'll call you back tomorrow."

"Don't -"

_Click._

The phone fell from Lupa's hands and she bent forward, her arms wrapping around her chest. "Please don't leave me," she moaned between sobs, "please don't leave me." The bed dipped down, and she looked up to see Lacy's pale, tear streaked face. Unashamedly, Lupa leaned into her sisters embrace and cried into her chest.

* * *

Leni flew down the stairs and Lynn pounded after, the former crying and the latter sneering. At the bottom, Lynn caught up and wrapped her arms around her sister, yanking her off her feet. "Let me go!" Leni screeched and thrashed, "I wanna leave!"

Ignoring the blonde's pleas, Lynn dragged her back up the stairs and shoved her roughly down the hall; her feet tangled and she fell to her hands and knees next to Lana, who lay on her stomach, blood and bits of broken teeth on the carpet. Lynn's heart raced and her head spun. When she was scared, she got angry, and she had never been more scared than she was right now; her future, her freedom, hung in the balance. Plus Lacy.

Luan knelt beside Lana and rubbed her back, big, fat, ugly tears coursing down her red face. Lori stood in the middle of the hall and hugged herself, that same goddamn blank, crazy expression on her face. Leni remained on her hands and knees and started to cry. "I wanna go!"

"Don't you get it, you fucking retard?" Lynn flashed, bending forward and throwing up her hands, "you will lose your daughter!"

"I don't care!" Leni wept.

"_I DO!" _Lynn screamed. She slapped Leni across the back of her head, and the blonde screamed in pain.

"Stop it!" Luan yelled. "Just stop!"

Lynn wheeled away and paced to the head of the stairs, her hands going to her hips. This was fucked, these bitches were fucking going crazy because they couldn't stand the fucking heat one little fucking stupid thing happens and they all fell apart well not her she was Lynn fucking Loud she could do anything. Simple, simple, simple, bury Leia as for Lyra she didn't know they needed to give her a pill and get her in the game give her a talk they could save this they could still save this.

Crying, sobbing, moaning, it was driving her fucking crazy. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she roared and spun. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

She needed time to think, time to think, no one left, no one leaves.

Phones. Everyone has a phone. No more.

Lupa and Lacy's room: They sat on the edge of Lupa's bed and weepingly held each other. Pantywaists just like their fucking no good aunts. They both looked up when she came in, mortal terror flicking across their faces. "Give me your fucking phones," Lynn demanded. She saw one in Lupa's lap and went for it, but Lupa grabbed it in defiance. No time to play, no time for games, NO TIME FOR THIS SHIT! She drew her hand back and brought it down in a deadly arc: It hit Lupa's face with a meaty slap and she fell over with a cry. Lynn started to reach for the phone, but Lacy slammed into her with a scream and knocked her against the nightstand.

The world was going gray as rage consumed her. She grabbed a handful of her daughter's hair and slammed her fist into her nose: It burst, and blood splattered Lynn's knuckles. Lacy's head whipped to one side and she dropped to the floor like the sack of shit she was. "_NO FUCKING PHONES!" _

She got them somehow she didn't know then next was Liena. "Give me your goddamn phone," Lynn quavered.

Paling, Liena grabbed it from the nightstand and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Lynn snatched it and shoved it into her pocket with the others. Liby didn't have one, Lemy didn't have one, Loan didn't have one. Were there others? She didn't know, she couldn't remember, she couldn't think, deep breath, deep breath. Keep it together keep it together. Lana was sitting on the closed toilet lid, Luan packing her puffy, broken nose with cotton or some damn thing. Lori stood there, and the broken look in her eyes pissed Lynn off. "Go make dinner or something. Betty fucking Breakdown. _You're _digging the grave, useless bitch."

Lori turned and went down the stairs like an automaton, shuffling, dead, zombified.

What next what next what next? Pill, pill, that's it. In Lyra's room, the girl was awake, her eyes open and her lips peeled back in a psychotic sneer. She pulled at the underwear binding her hands to the bedpost and panted as if in rage. "You're taking your fucking medicine," Lynn said as she snatched the pill bottle off the nightstand. Pills rattled. She tried to open it but the cap twisted uselessly in her hand. Flashing, she pounded it against the table. "Fucking open!"

She finally got it; white tablets flooded her palm. Ten, twenty, thirty. Lyra's head whipped back and forth. "Let me go!"

"Take your medication," Lynn said.

"Poison!"

"It's not poison…"

"Poison…"

"IT'S NOT FUCKNG POISON!" Lynn climbed onto the bed and straddled the girl like she was a white haired brother. She turned her head away, and Lynn flared: She brought her fist down onto her temple. "TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!"

"Fuck you!" Lyra snarled.

Lynn trembled with violent rage; her eyes were wide, face red, teeth clenched. She shot out her hand and wrapped it around Lyra's throat. "TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!" She pressed the entire handful against the girl's lips; tablets filled her mouth, some dropping onto the bed, a few disappearing down the front of her shirt. Lynn used her fingers to push them in. Lyra coughed and broken bits of pill splattered Lynn's face.

Liby wept into her hands.

Lynn took Lyra's chin in one hand forced her to chew. "There," she panted, a mad smile on her lps, "there, like that, good girl, take your medication."

Downstairs, Lori stood in the garage and stared at the blue tarp covering Leia's body; the little girl's form was barely distinguishable, but in Lori's broken mind, she could she her face, her bloody eyes, her gaping mouth. _Bury her like trash...put her on the curb...box Lyra up and feed her to the kids. How could they do this? She's a baby and the want to bury her like trash…_

* * *

The last dying light of day drained slowly and inexorably from the room, taking with it life and leaving only death. Lupa held her sister's head to her breast and tenderly stroked her hair. Her face stung from Lynn's blow; a trickle of blood was dried on her upper lip.

"I'm sorry," she said. She no longer cried; she was spent, empty, nothing left to give. "I was wrong to blame you."

Lacy snuggled deeper into Lupa's chest like a small animal trying to burrow away from danger. Lupa stared straight ahead into the soft purple gloom. It filled the room like water filling a sinking ship.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you," Lacy muttered. Her nose still leaked and her front teeth feel loose.

"Don't worry about it," Lupa said. "It doesn't matter." She turned her head, and her eyes went to the razor on the nightstand. She reached out and picked it up. Lacy lifted her head, saw it, and took a deep, steadying breath. "Lay down."

Lacy stretched out on her side and Lupa settled behind her, big spoon, little spoon. She wrapped one arm around her sister's wasit and drew her close. For a while, they simply cuddled, reveling in the warmth, love, and closeness that they both lacked...and so desperately craved. Lupa thought of her mother...hanging up on her like she was nothing, of her father thrusting into her. _Your pussy belongs to me_. Like she was an object, a toy.

"I don't want to do this alone," she said and swallowed thickly. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"I-I can't do it," Lacy said, "I'm not brave enough."

"I'll do it," Lupa said, "if you want."

In lieu of speaking, Lacy nodded.

"Hold out your arm."

Obeying, Lacy struck her arm out and pushed the cuff of the sweater up. She made a fist, squeezed her eyes closed, and steeled herself for what was about to come. The blade touched her wrist and bit hard. She gasped and clenched her teeth.

Flesh tore, blood vessels ripped. Lacy panted heavily, tears of pain leaking down her freckled cheeks. The razor's edge tracked along the length of her arm, stinging as it went.

"Other one."

The ritual was repeated and Lacy openly wept now. "I'm sorry," Lupa said softly. "It'll be over soon."

Next, Lupa rolled the sleeves of her hoodie up her thin arms, dug the blade into her own wrist, and dragged it nearly to her armpit. Blood gushed but she felt no pain; how can you when you're already dead?

When both of her arms were laid open, she wrapped them around Lacy and buried her face into her hair. Its scent was clean, warm, comforting. Her heart swelled with love and affection, and she kissed the back of her sister's head. "I love you, Lacy."

"I love you too," Lacy said.

Lupa closed her eyes. She was feeling woozy now as her life drained away like the setting sun. Her eyelids fluttered open when Lacy spoke. "I'm scared." Her voice was weak, trembling.

_I am too, _Lupa thought. She hugged her sister tighter; her arms were numb and moving them was hard. "Don't be," she said, "I'll be with you."

"Don't leave me," Lacy said. Her voice was even weaker now, barely above a whisper.

"I won't," Lupa said, "I promise. Just...don't leave me either."

"I won't."

Lupa's lids were heavy now, the cold of the coming night creeping into her body. She closed her eyes again and steadied her breathing. It was okay now...none of it mattered, not Mom, not Dad, not her aunts or sisters or her crippled legs or her depression or anything else, only Lacy, the only one who had ever loved her, and the only one _she _ever loved.

"I...lu' you," Lupa said, her voice coming hard.

"...too…"

Together they drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep, and as the final strands of orange filtered from from sky, two new stars appeared in the heavens.

* * *

The cold light of the winter moon shone down on Lori as she dug Leia's grave; a chill wind blew through the night, and bare branches knocked forlornly together. An owl hooted from a desolate treetop. Somewhere a car backfired. Lori glanced at Leia's body: It lay on its back, its face glowing white, ghostly. Lynn stood on the back porch and watched, her arms folded over her chest. _Better dig two, _she thought and tittered madly to herself.

The second was for Lyra. Something was wrong with her. She was foaming at the mouth and convulsing. Luan and Lana were with her; _make sure she doesn't swallow her fucking tongue, _Lynn commanded before she left to check on Lori. The more she thought about it, though, the more she hoped the fucking skitzo _did_: Having her out of the way would make things so much easier, so much _better_. _They both left, officer, Lola with Leia and Luna with Lyra. I don't know _where _they are. _

They'd buy that, right?

Yeah, they would, no biggie, people move all the time.

_Chink!_

Lori threw a shovelful of rocks over her shoulder.

Maybe she wasn't so useless after all.

Inside, Lynn climbed the stairs and went into Lyra's room; when Lyra started acting funny, Lynn snatched Liby by the wrist and dragged her into the closest room: Lemy's. The girl wept and tried to pull away, and Lynn twisted her hand so hard it snapped. That was an easy fix, though; her wrist had snapped a thousand times before. She'd take care of it come morning.

Lana sat in a kitchen chair and Luan sat on the bed next to Lyra. Both of them looked grave and washed out. "S-She's dead," Luan hitched. She sounded empty, wrung out, dead herself. _Good_, Lynn thought as she dropped onto the edge of the bed. There's _that _problem solved.

Across the hall, Lizy grabbed a handful of Lulu's hair and pulled: Lulu wailed. "I hate you," Lizy said. She sounded like Luan: Dead. "You're ugly and smelly and you have one eye. Cyclops." She reached her other hand in and pinched Lulu's cheek between the jagged nails of her forefinger and thumb. Lulu sobbed desolately.

In Lemy's room, Liby squeezed her eyes closed against a rush of hot tears; her chest heaved and her heart slammed so hard she imagined you could see it straining against her skin like in a cartoon. Lemy knelt over her, his hand thrust up her skirt and his fingers digging deeply into her.

Every person has a Greatest Fear, something that strikes cold terror into the middle of their heart. For Liby Loud, it was being raped by her brother, her weird, leering, smelly, fire-loving brother.

Lemy pulled his fingers out and yanked down his underwear. Liby's eyes widened and her heart stopped. She tried to speak, to plead, to beg, but her vocal cords were frozen. She tried to move, but her muscles, too, were locked. She was petrified with horror; even her eyelids refused to respond to her brain's command.

She watched silently as Lemy mounted her, his face dark and full of lustful insanity. His head poked her...then thrust deep into her center with a ripping sting. Red pain filled Liby's skull and she started to cry again, the only sound a low, miserable moan in the back of her throat.

Her nightmare had become a reality, and was repeated many times that long, cold night…

* * *

Lincoln stared sullenly at the wall-mounted TV, his eyes unseeing. Bitter hatred coursed through him, and he ground his teeth with an audible sound. Orange morning light streamed through the window and fell across the bed, bathing the spot where his legs would be if he had any.

But he didn't.

It was enough to make you cry. His entire life, the universe had been out to get him, chipping away at him little by little, taking a bit here, and a bit there. Now it took his fucking legs...and his dick too.

A shiver went down his spine.

He was dickless now; it disintegrated in the doctor's hands and they threw it in the trash. The unfairness of it hit him keenly, and tears of rage and grief filled his eyes. He didn't even get to fuck Liby. Or Lizy.

When he got out of here, he was going to kill Lemy.

Literally kill him.

He saw the boy's wide, shiny, retarded face in his mind, and his fingers curled against his palms. He never wanted a goddamn son anyway, only daughters, and if Luna didn't let herself get pregnant a second time, he would have gotten his way. But no, god forbid Lincoln Loud get what he wants, can't have that. Everyone _else _can have what they want but not him, no, never him. It was unfair.

"Hi, Lincoln."

Lincoln turned his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. Lori stood in the doorway. Her hair stuck out, dark bags hung under her eyes, and her face was the color of milk. Her blue dress was smeared with dirt, as were her cheeks. He glanced at her feet: Clumps of dirt littered the floor around them, and trailed around the corner and presumably down the hall. She held a tupperware container in her hands.

He ignored her disheveled appearance "So you finally come to visit," he said sourly. He didn't know how long he'd been here (a day? Two?) but the whole time he was alone, his supposed 'family' doing god knows what. Probably celebrating because _oooh, Daddy the hardass is gone, now we can do whatever we want. _His sisters probably had all their little boyfriends over, the kids were running free, Lemy starting fires and Loan shitting on the floor. By the time he finally got out of here, the place would raised to the fucking ground.

Lori came forward and stood at his bedside. "I can't stay long, I have things to do, but I wanted you to have this." She held the container out and Lincoln crinkled his brows.

"What is it?"

"A brownie," she said, "from the other night. I figured it'd be a nice treat."

After two days of hospital Jello, yeah, it _was _a treat. He snatched it from her hand and sat it in what passed for his lap.

"I also wanted to tell you I love you," Lori said. She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "We'll all be together," she whispered, her lips still gently touching his face, "and we'll be happy this time. I promise."

Lincoln pulled away and looked at her as though she'd just told him the moon was made of cheese. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He looked her up and down with disdainful eyes. "You on drugs now, too?"

"No," she said and stood to her full height. She reached out and mussed his hair like she used to when they were kids. "I love you, Lincoln. Goodbye."

She turned and walked away, Lincoln's eyes boring into her back. Not on my drugs my ass. He always suspected she was that way; all of them were. Fucking druggie, junkie fucking sluts. Sighing, he pulled the lid off the container and picked the brownie up. Luna was the worst, sticking needles in her fucking arms. Surprised she didn't have AIDS yet.

He took a bite. Sweet bitterness filled his mouth and he winced. Of course she made them wrong, she couldn't do _anything _right. Women these days; their mothers don't teach them shit so the man has to pick up their fucking slack.

He took another bite, then another.

His daughters weren't going to be like that, though; when he got home things were going to change around that fucking house. No more Mr. Nice Guy, the gloves were coming _off_. They would not wind up like their bitch mothers, and if they did…

A spasm of pain clutched his stomach and he grimaced. Lovely, he'd need a bedpan. He fucking _hated _bedpans; the last time he used one he got piss and shit all over the sheets and the whore nurse left him in it for almost twenty minutes. _I'm sorry, Mr. Loud, I had to attend to another patient_. He tone said: _You're not the only one here, buddy. _Fuck her. He _hated _women. He wished -

Another convulsion hit him, and he cried out; felt like someone was squeezing his guts in their hands. He bowed his head and waited for the pain to pass; by the time it did, he was pale and panting, a sheen of cold sweat slathering his chest and forehead.

He didn't call the nurse, though.

Not until he started to bleed.

* * *

Lori heaped the last of the pancakes onto a plate and sat it aside just as Lynn came into the kitchen. Lori did not notice her sister's wan complexion or dark eyes, didn't hear her say, "Hope you enjoyed what you did last night 'cuz you're doing it again." Her eyes, her mind, her heart were over the rainbow and far away, second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. She didn't even realize she was moving until she found herself standing outside Lupa and Lacy's door. She opened it and peeked in. They were huddled together on Lupa's bed. Lori's eyes flicked from their pale faces to the blood covering them, then she withdrew and went to Lemy's room. He was sitting on his bed, flicking a lighter. Liby was drawn up in a corner, naked and trembling. "Help me," she muttered.

"Breakfast is ready," Lori said and left.

In Lulu's room, Lizy was curled up on the floor asleep, the butt of her shorts dark with dried blood. Lulu sat up in her crib, her face covered in bruises and her eyes haunted. Lori picked her up and shook Lizy awake with her foot. "Breakfast," she said flatly.

She took Lulu downstairs and strapped her into her high chair, then went back for Loan and Liena. Inside of five minutes, they were all at the table, the sad, tattered remains of the Loud family. No one commented on Lupa and Lacy's absence because no one cared.

Lori slowly and methodically made a plate for each one and sat it in front of them, She was just sitting down herself when the phone rang. _Hello?_

_Mrs. Loud, this is Royal Woods General Hospital...blah blah blah...your brother passed away this morning...blah blah blah sudden._

_Oh. How terrible. I'll be right there._

She hung up, went back into the kitchen, and sat down. No one spoke as they ate, no one looked at each other. Lana's nose was crooked and purple, Leni's eyes leaked. Lulu winced at the bitterness of the pancake piece Luan fed her, and a look of distaste crossed Lynn's face.

Lori cut a piece off, dipped it in syrup, and held it out to Loan, who smiled happily and ate. "Good girl," Lori said with the faint ghost of a smile. She cut another piece off and forked it into her own mouth.

Liena frowned at her plate. "My stomach hurts," she said.

"Don't worry," Lori said and fed another bite to Loan. "It'll pass." She took another bite for herself. "Then we'll be happy."

Lynn's fork dropped to her plate with a clink, her face crinkling in pain.

"I promise."

* * *

**Two things people were confused about. 1) Lizy called Lulu "one eye" because that's what Leia called _her_. That was my way of showing that the cycle of abuse had been completed and the abused had become the abuser. She was doing to Lulu what Leia had done to her. 2) Lori died. Loan died. Everyone died in the end. A lot of people seemed to think Lori somehow escaped. No. She ate the poisoned pancakes as well. **


	17. An Officer's Horror (Written by SizzlR)

**I don't think anyone likes a karma Houdini, but one thing I've learned in life is that people often do bad things - sometimes really awful things - and get away with it. I've known people, and have been the victim of people, who never get their comeuppance or just desserts. I'm sure we've all known people like that. One thing about the ending of The 'Cest Kids is that I wanted to convey a sense of unfairness because life is unfair, and even though this story was over the top in ways, many of the themes are grimly realistic. Poverty. Abuse. Selfishness. Rape. Domestic violence. I haven't suffered all of those things, but I have some of them, and while a middle class teenager from the suburbs might dismiss this story as 3edgy5me, all I did was use stage dressing - incest and deformities - to tell the truth as I see it. These types of things happen. Rape happens, abuse happens, people break down and turn cold. I don't dwell on these things constantly - look how many fluffy romances I've written in comparison to dark fics - but I don't ignore them either. **

**As for Lisa, she died in a lab accident before the events of the story. And Lucy, well, some things are attractive and desirable until we actually have them. Call it The Monkey's Paw Principle. **

**Guest: You didn't read the author's note at the end of chapter one, did you? I address that topic there.**

* * *

**This epilogue was written and originally posted as a standalone story called _An Officer's Horror_ by the FFN user SizzlR. I was very impressed with it and always said that if I'd written one myself, it would have looked a lot like this. Not too long ago, people were talking about it and The 'Cest Kids, and asked whether or not I considered it canon. I decided that I did. Thank you, SizzlR, for writing this and allowing me to add it to the reupload.**

_AUGUST 12, 2031, 20:30 C.T._

_LOG: OFFICER FRANCISCO GARCIA_

_ADD: DEPUTY CHANDLER MCCANN_

_AUDIO LOG-BEGIN:_

Hello? Is this on?

It is? Alright then. Guess I have to start the testimony now?

Ok, do I seriously have to do this? I'd rather we did this at a… wait, it's recording? I have to talk?

Well, I guess I got no choice, then. Judge isn't gonna let me out of this room until I talk… even if I don't want to. Tough luck, huh?

I guess I have to answer these questions on the sheet, then… name? Francisco. Stupid, I know. Like this interview… Look, I don't care if it's court ordered, I'd rather not…

-sigh- Alright, what's next… occupation. Police Officer. Formerly Staff Sergeant Garcia of the U.S Marine Corps, 2nd Division. Two deployments to Iraq. Lived in New Mexico for a while, moved back to Royal Woods to start a family.

What is the incident that you… oh, no. No, no, no, you can't just- I'm not talking about it. You can't make me, I won't- I don't give a shit about 2 years in prison! It's better than doing this!

...fine. I'll talk. But you won't get the full story out of me, you hear? I try to bury it nowadays… mostly for my own sanity.

It was what, four months ago? Normal Saturday morning. Got out of bed, drove down to the station, ate breakfast with Chandler… good friend, no matter how big a douche he was in middle school. He smartened up his time as an officer.

I'm never gonna forget that day… as much as I want to. It's tough to talk about, you know? I'm already sweating just thinking about it. But yeah, me and McCann were eating, donuts, I think… stereotypical, but it was true. We got the call at what, Ten? I answered it after a few seconds, which is standard for the force to do. Can't make us seem too alert, now, can we?

I answered, wrote down the issue; request for welfare check. Their neighbor, Owen Grouse, he hadn't seen the family in a few days and was becoming worried. We tried to tell him it was probably nothing, but he insisted. Said the lights were all on, that the kids usually were moving inside, etc. We thought he was batshit, but a call is a call. We had a job to do.

We finished eating, went to the car, drove to the house. Royal Woods ain't like I remembered it… more like another Motown suburb than SmallTown, USA. I have good memories of growing up there. Baseball, my driving test, Senior Homecoming… I'm getting off topic.

Honestly… I'd rather be off topic.

Come on! Not even- fine! I'm almost done anyway! We got to the street and knocked on the door to the house. Grouse answered, middle aged man with longer hair and glasses. Said that his neighbors, the Louds, hadn't been out in a while, thought that something was wrong. We reassured him and said we'd check on it.

I didn't even expect the Loud family to still be living there, to be honest. They had been there since I moved into town… their kid, Lynn, I used to hang out with her all the time. Took her to my… my 8th grade formal…

Anyway… we walked over, me and McCann, and got to the yard. The house was like I remembered, in a little worse shape. Nothing big. Paint chipping, unkempt lawn, loose shingles. Like it was either abandoned or uncared for. I hadn't talked to these guys in a while, but... they didn't keep their house THIS bad.

Got to the porch, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. Damn, it was strong. Kinda like a mixture of waffle batter and metal. It sort of blended in, actually… that's why we weren't immediately alarmed. It seemed normal enough.

Chandler knocked first. Stated his name, purpose, position, everything. No answer. Not even footsteps.

I wasn't too worried. It was still early, people slept in on weekends, yadda yadda. I tried knocking harder, and still nothing. That's when McCann twisted the door handle. It was unprofessional, sure, but it worked. The door was wide open.

We looked at each other, then at the inside. Man… it was TERRIBLE. The place was trashed… garbage everywhere, smell of shit wafting through… the main chair was burned almost to ashes... which looking back, makes more sense now. I remember Chandler gasping, turning to me and saying, "Who the hell lives like this?"

I shrugged. This wasn't the Loud family I knew. I told McCann to search the living room, I'd go upstairs. I… I closed the door behind me. That's when I saw the kitchen.

I… I don't…

I'll admit right now, I vomited. It took a minute, but I did. They were all sitting there at the table. I didn't think anything was wrong at first… maybe they were so into their meal they didn't hear us.

It was only a few seconds until I realized what I was seeing.

They… they were dead. All of them.

I yelled. LOUD. I didn't expect it, NO ONE expects it, but there it was right in front of me. McCann came running, and like me stood paralyzed at the door. We were horrified. Anyone would be in the situation.

There was twelve of them. Five adult women and seven… kids. There were seven dead children at that table. There faces were… oh, God, they were blue. Blue and veined. There were veins jutting out of their faces. That's when McCann fainted. Took me a solid few minutes to realize he was on the floor. I was transfixed.

I only recognized one of them. Lynn. My first crush, my first love… sitting there, her face dead and her eyes glazed. Her lip was cut from her nose down. An expression of pain was written on her face. I'll remember that for the rest of my life…

I'm crying? Get a tissue, then… don't leave me looking like this.

THAT'S when I puked. Right on the linoleum floor, I let my guts loose. It was too gruesome to stomach. When I was done, I radioed the chief… pretty sure he thought I was loco, I was choking on my words. He didn't believe me… he didn't believe me or I wasn't understandable, but he promised to send a car down. I was too weak to argue.

Chandler stood up then. Tears streaked down his face. He turned away and walked outside, he couldn't look at it and I wished I could do the same, but… I couldn't.

I walked into the kitchen and saw immediately what happened. A bowl was on the counter, filled with pancake batter. A can was on its side next to it. Arsenic.

Rat poison.

Whoever cooked that meal poisoned all of them. Mass suicide.

I couldn't do it. I RAN outside, waited until Santana got there. Edgar had been on the force longer than me, knew more, but he wasn't prepared for this. No one could be.

He screamed. Like a bitch.

The rest happened fast. Squad cars piled up, the house was blocked off, news vans… it was the largest homicide in Michigan since 1962. Right there in the Loud House. Biggest domestic child abuse case since the Turpin house of horrors in '18.

Of course, I had to keep going that day. The staff was understocked for different reasons, so we all had to chip in with the house search later in the day. I wish I hadn't… I should have left, but my dumb ass didn't.

Up the stairs was probably the worst scene of carnage in my life. Trash everywhere. Human feces stained the carpet. Dead rats and bugs were piled into corners… NO ONE could live in this. How did they? We had to use masks, the air was so toxic and bad…

There were 5 rooms. Bathroom was a shit storm, absolutely. There was no possible way to tell it WAS a bathroom unless you studied. Next room was… Jesus, it was horrible. The diary in the corner desk said Lyra. Hell if I know which one that was… but the walls were scratched to a pulp by her bed. Lighters… everywhere. Small burns… everywhere. Lemy, the boys name was, had a thing for fire. Must have been the one to set the chair up, then.

Across the hall was the worst smelling room I had ever been in. Loan was on one side, big bold block letters above the bed. Judging from the added… additions to her side of the room, she was the one responsible for the shit everywhere. The girl was mentally retarded, I believe the report said. The other side wasn't as bad at first glance, but it was. Liena… my kids name. I had named my first child Liena. God, I wanted to die at that point. The cruel irony...

We searched that room, and all we could find was the box. An Under Armor shoebox.

It… it was a baby. A baby boy split into 3 parts. And it's... it's guts were hanging out of its stomach.

3 officers had to be taken out after that. I've never seen that happen to ANYONE. The guys who had to leave, some of the toughest men I'd ever seen. Seven of us got mild PTSD just from looking inside that house. Me included.

I cried. I openly cried out. I couldn't take it.

The rest of the search was a blur. The last room we searched was the locked door, the farthest down the hall. An old linen closet was next to it, which had been locked off from the inside. We tried to knock it down with our boots, but it was stuck in place. We had to call in the battering ram to get in, and… and...

Two girls my kids age. Dead. Slashed their wrists and died in each other's arms. We covered them with sheets from the bed, and they were gone by the end of the hour.

I don't remember much after that. I flash back to that baby all the time... it tries to attack me in my sleep. Tries to choke me out with its guts as chains. I used to love babies, but now all I see is that… that fucking monster. I can't do it.

The first scene was horrible, too. I can smell pancake batter and arsenic everywhere now. I'll never eat pancakes again. I won't. My kids had a pancake dinner at school earlier this week and I had to leave it to throw up.

All in total, there were fifteen.

FIFTEEN.

They found another one that night. She was buried out back in the yard, no older than six. She'd been strangled. The fingerprints matched with no one, they'd been so contaminated.

The worst part? America was watching it unfold. CNN, FOX, NBC, they all covered it. They were there filming live when they nabbed the three that left the house. They were there when Lynn Loud Sr was arrested for child molestation. They were there as every detail, every gruesome tidbit of information was released. And America didn't cry. They sobbed.

How could WE let this happen? How did us, the people, let these kids live like this? Like animals? And more, how would we cope with the fact that we allowed this to happen?

My answer? I didn't. I locked myself in my thoughts for a while. Back to my formal dance in eighth grade. I went to that house for pictures before the dance. I knew all of them. They were nice people… especially Lynn. My first crush… where did it all go wrong?

When they came out with the final report… that was it. I got my gun and I had my hand on the trigger. I wanted my story to end right there, the worst case scenario nightmare that was happening. I didn't, though. I had two kids that needed a dad in their lives.

Lincoln… that nice kid in the orange polo with the cowlick. He seemed nice enough… we talked about Ace Savvy for a while before I went to the dance with his sister. How he could manage to ruin this family was beyond me… but he did. The report said that he was an abusive drunk, that he had kids with all his sisters. An incestuous cult living in OUR OWN TOWN. That's the gist of it. It said he died in the hospital, had to have his legs and dick cut off after a 'BBQ accident.'

Barbecue, my ass. The pyro lit him up, if you ask me.

Now, whenever I think about it, I can't stop. I'm gonna have to take pills and knock myself out to forget this… the memories of that day come back to me like bullets.

They buried all of them next to each other. I, personally, think that was selfish. Lincoln was next to the children he beat and procreated. Hypocrisy at its finest.

I still go up there occasionally, to their final resting spot. They made a shrine to the kids up there. They leave flowers, stuffed animals, letters, everything. They made a scholarship fund in their name, they tore the house down… people are trying to forget it ever happened. But I can't. I… I'm sorry...

Don't forget them. We may not have known them, but we can't forget them. Those kids, they were humans, too. Sinful humans that frankly shouldn't have existed in the first place, but humans. They were guilty of nothing except being born and unloved. It makes me sick to think that they lived among us and nobody knew enough to stop it.

If you ever go up to that cemetery, leave a crocus at Lynn's grave for me. That was always her favorite flower. She told me after we kissed for the first time.

And… when you see that tombstone that says 'Lincoln L, Father, Son, Husband'?

Spit on it. For all of them.

-END AUDIO-

* * *

**A family is supposed to be one of the lights in your life. When that light goes out, it's very likely you'll never see one again.**

**I know these kids don't exist. But there are families like this out there. The Turpins showed that to all of us. And while we can't do much about it, what we can do is report it. If you suspect abuse, tell someone.**

**Thank you Flagg for letting me share this epilogue with you and everyone else. -SizzlR**


End file.
